


Silver Alliance

by Lynnwood



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Girls aren't powerless but it seems that way at first, Male chars being BAMF for once, Multi, Non-con/dub-con, Not-incredibly-graphic-violence, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance, Silver Millennium Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 127,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3894565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynnwood/pseuds/Lynnwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Silver Alliance turned their backs on Earth, leaving them to die at the hands of the Negaverse. Now, years later it is the Alliance who are on the verge of falling and Endymion demands a heavy price for Earth's aid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue : Crumbling Alliances

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually an older work of mine, it's been posted on fanfiction.net for quite a while. That archive site's policy on adult work is suckage however and I love this site so much better. So I thought I'd go ahead and post what I have of this fic in its entirety. It's not finished and I haven't written anything for it in quite a long time, fair warning. But this fic is by far my most popular, so I just thought I'd share it over here too. And I have hopes of one day finishing this. One day. Read on and hopefully enjoy!
> 
> The character of Jorowyn is an OC © Ginsan, a good friend of mine. He's used with gleeful permission.

_The History of the Silver Alliance . . . ._

 

Mercury, Venus, Mars, Phaeton, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto. These nine planetary Kingdoms existed peacefully together in one solar system, bound together under a coalition called the Silver Alliance and presided over—ironically enough—by a satellite of the one planet not allowed entrance into this sacred confederation. The satellite’s name was Lunara, the planet in question, Earth.

When the other Kingdoms were already old and well-established, Earth was just being born—socially and politically speaking. The beautiful blue and green planet was set apart from the others with its natural atmosphere and stand-alone ecosystem, completely unreliant on technology or magic to sustain itself. This life of relative simplicity ensured that its people remained positively medieval compared to the rest of the Kingdoms in the Galaxy—unhindered by the need to come together as a species for mutual survival. While the other Kingdoms had remained peaceful and untouched by war for several millennia, it seemed Earth was constantly brewing with battle; lords and common men fighting amongst themselves, one nation burning for power and domination over the others. Earthlings were deemed barbaric beasts and unintelligent warmongers not fit for the far more cultured and civilized Silver Alliance, and therefore passed over completely when the confederation was founded nearly three thousand years ago.

And then, after an especially bloody world war, Earth finally settled down under one central rule. It was called the Elysian Kingdom, presided over by one Lord King and four Warrior Kings—also known as the Guardians of the Four Corners—the King’s top Generals and closest confidants. There were several generations of painful reconstruction that followed, as the planet struggled to adjust and adapt. Yet for the first time it seemed as though Earth had finally found itself.

It was then that the planet of Phaeton took an interest in Earth and her very diverse people.

Phaeton was a small planetary mass between Mars and Jupiter, with a highly advanced technological and equally impressive magical community that rivaled both Mercury and Lunara respectively in prowess. Phaetonian scientists were the creators of Chrys-Tech technology after all, the awesome and virtually limitless power source that gave fuel to the planetary transporters, the atmospheric shields, environmental stabilizers and Mercury’s entire planet-wide central computer network to name only a few. To say that Phaeton was vital to the way of life in the Silver Alliance would be putting the situation in very mild terms indeed.

The King of Phaeton—Lord Coeus—had vision where the other rulers did not. He saw the raw, untapped potential of Earth, as well as the possibility of extreme danger. As the only planet in their solar system that did not rely on either magical or technological means to support life, it was most certainly the most logical target should someone or some _thing_ ever decide to attack. The Alliance disagreed heartily with Phaeton’s analysis, however. Mercury insisted that the odds of such a happenstance were nearly impossible, denouncing them as paranoid and foolish. Coeus was a man deeply interested in the histories of the universe however, and he knew that no nation in this life was infallible. History had proven that time and time again. The others of the Alliance had forgotten this hard lesson however, lulled into a false sense of security due to the hundreds of centuries worth of peace that they had enjoyed. The Alliance ruled that Phaetonians were forbidden to act on their speculations, and were to continue to shun all contact with Earth and her “barbarous” peoples.

Ignoring the ruling, Coeus made contact with Earth in the Planetary year 4023. The Earthlings were startled, to say the least, to discover that there was life on other planets than their own and that these Kingdoms in question had been around for far longer than they. The Lord King of Earth was also more than a little affronted to learn that his planet was considered to be the _black sheep_ of the entire solar system. In the end he decided to grant them their wish, however, and made no attempts to contact or beg assistance from them. His reasoning was that he and his people had managed just fine without this all-powerful “Silver Alliance” for hundreds of years and that they would continue to do so. Earth was more than happy to welcome Phaeton and their teachings, however. In five short years Earth had its very own planetary transporter and was well on its way to catching up to the other civilizations, technologically speaking.

The Alliance was furious, to say the least. Phaeton continued to ignore their threats and chastising, however, for that’s all that could really be done against them. Unlike the other planets and kingdoms, Phaeton was quite invaluable with their Chrys-Tech, and enjoyed an immunity of a sort because of it. Thus, all the Alliance could do was sit back and brood disapprovingly while the ties between Phaeton and Earth grew stronger with each passing year. The Phaetonian Princess, Jaasa—younger sister to the King—even married Earth’s Warrior King of the East in a huge celebration that was enjoyed on both planets, the union being like a physical manifestation of their peoples’ bond of friendship.

And then, despite Mercury’s statistical predictions, in the year 4046 disaster struck in the form of an evil and mysterious force known only as the Negaverse. No one knew who the true power was behind it, though on Earth the hoards of hell were led by a malignant sorceress—and former Earthian noble woman—who now called herself Queen Beryl. She and her misshapen Youma spread across the Earth like an evil plague, annihilating everything and everyone in their path. The devastation was vast. Coeus called for the Silver Alliance to raise arms and come to Earth’s defense against this evil foe.

This time it was _he_ who was ignored.

The Silver Alliance turned their backs on Earth in their greatest hour of need, citing that it was Fate punishing the weaker Kingdom for trying to meddle with their own destiny, that they had awoken this evil themselves by trying to dabble in a level of power they couldn’t possibly ever understand. Infuriated, Phaeton once again ignored Queen Serenity’s order to stand down, holding true to Earth. They paid dearly for their loyalty. In retaliation for their assistance to the Earthlings, Beryl launched a secret attack on the small planet. One that—thanks to a traitor—resulted in the planet’s utter destruction. The Chrys-Tech plants were tampered with, a planet-wide overload that resulted in a massive explosion, blowing the planet itself completely apart. It became nothing more than an asteroid belt spanning between its former neighbors. This tragedy only seemed to strengthen the Alliance’s resolute decision to remain uninvolved in Earth’s dilemma.

For thirteen years the Earth managed to somehow hold firm against the endless waves of Youma attacks. The loss was incredible, the deaths were astronomical—including the current Lord King and all four of his Generals. The fate of Earth and all her people was at its most dire.

And yet, Earthlings are nothing if not adaptable.

The five sons that rose to take their fathers’ places soon become legends throughout the solar system. Where their fathers had held the Negaverse at bay, these warriors—wielding a level of power not seen since the Elder Days of the star system—actually showed signs of _beating_ them.

Frustrated at her continued loss, Beryl soon grew tired of trying to overthrow this planet. In the year 4049, the Negaverse systematically launched attacks against the other Eight Kingdoms of the Silver Alliance. Unlike Earth, it had been hundreds of centuries since the last time they had seen war. Their soldiers were trained, but not yet battle tested. Their magic was strong, but unpracticed.

They began falling like leaves on a winter wind.

In two short years the Kingdom of Pluto fell completely and Saturn was fast on its way to joining it. It soon became painfully apparent to the Alliance that where they were failing, their _barbaric_ and _uncivilized_ cousin had all but won. Queen Serenity knew that she had but one option left, or risk complete annihilation.

In the Planetary Year 4051, she sent the transmission.


	2. The Call For Help

Endymion—twenty-three year old Lord King of Elysian—glanced up from the huge map spread before him at someone’s abrupt entrance. He stood alone in the large room that had served as his father’s study a short five years ago, was now his. The young man straightened away from his battle reports and sighed.

“Yes Helios? What do you need?”

The young, pale-haired boy bowed respectfully before his King. The fifteen year old had taken over his father’s position as Head Priest after the man’s untimely death last year. Though young, he had uncharted healing abilities and a wisdom that went well beyond his years. Helios straightened now, his chestnut eyes solemn.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, my Lord, but we’ve just received a transmission from the Kingdom of Lunara. The Queen, Lady Serenity, is requesting an audience with you.”

The boy’s tone didn’t falter from its soft, steady cadence despite the absolutely incredible information he was giving. Endymion felt his eyebrows fair shoot up into his hairline with shock. What was this? The high and mighty Moon Queen wanted to speak with _him?_ A lowly Earthling lord? He scoffed bitterly to himself then. _The end of the universe must be closer than I thought._

“I sent for the Four before I came,” the boy continued lightly. “I thought you might like to confer with them ere you spoke with her.” Endymion nodded, then frowned, coming away from the table completely.

“Did she mention anything to you concerning what she wants to speak to me about?” Helios shook his head, but a sneering laugh sounded before the pale-haired boy had a chance to actually respond. And then a tall and lanky form shoved it’s way past.

The man was pushing six and a half feet, with brilliant red-gold hair left to tumble loose to his thighs and a pair of snapping green eyes so pale they were nearly white. Jorowyn, crowned prince of Phaeton, a planet now dead thanks to the Silver Alliance and their continued stubborn idiocy. The prince—only fourteen at the time—had been on Earth visiting his aunt and cousin when Phaeton was destroyed. Grief-stricken, bitter and resentful, Jorowyn had grown to passionately hate the Alliance and anything having to do with it. Nothing had changed in the ten years that had followed, save the fact that he had become a raging alcoholic. Oddly enough, the drink did nothing to deaden his razor-sharp wit or deadly fighting skills . . . only served to make the cynically sarcastic man even more acerbic.

“There’s only one thing that her _precious Majesty_ could possibly want from us,” Jorowyn droned lazily, coming to plop himself down into a chair near-by and take a long pull on the silvery flask he always had near-at-hand. He stared at it for a moment afterward, pausing for effect as well as to wait for the other four men that were behind him to slowly file inside.

They were the four Warrior Kings of Earth, Endymion’s top Generals and most powerful fighters. They were also his closest friends. Malachite, Warrior King of the North, so stern and unbending. Nephrite, Warrior King of the West, frowning and pensive. Zoisite, Warrior King of the East, his sharp and intelligent eyes immediately drifting to his inebriated cousin with a pained sigh. And finally Jadeite, Warrior King of the South, his normally irrepressibly jovial expression unreadable as he came and sat on the other side of the room.

Helios bowed again after they’d all entered, then turned on his heel and left, softly closing the double-doors behind him.

“As I was saying,” Jorowyn suddenly started again, his sharp tenor slightly slurred. “There’s only one possible reason why Her Mightiness suddenly wants an audience with the savage Earthlings,” he repeated. “And that is because she no longer has any other choice in the matter.”

“Which means . . . what exactly,” Jadeite prompted after a slight pause, scowling slightly with impatience.

“The sudden drawing away of the Youma these past two years,” Zoisite clarified for his cousin, his tone troubled and expression faring no better. “We speculated that there had to be a reason for it.”

“Has the Negaverse finally moved on the Alliance?” Endymion questioned and Jorowyn nodded.

“My father predicted that this would happen, but the fools wouldn’t listen. The Youma no doubt gained just enough of a foot-hold here on Earth to allow a planetary transport into the other Kingdoms. Their soldiers are nowhere near battle-tested enough to withstand full-scale war, not the likes of which you have. They’ve no doubt been losing abominably. Now guess who they come crying to.”

Several of the men sneered in distaste, though it was Jadeite who growled, “yah, to hell with that.”

“They abandoned _us,”_ Nephrite agreed coldly. “Why should we come to _their_ aid?”

“How conceited can you get?” Zoisite murmured in disbelief, then, shaking his head.

Jorowyn snorted at that. “Oh you’d be _amazed,”_ he droned, motioning with his flask.

There was a moment of heavy silence, then, “well I cannot simply ignore her call,” Endymion announced suddenly.

“And why the hell not?” Jade demanded, but it was Malachite who answered with,

“Because despite what the Silver Alliance wants to believe of us,” he rumbled, “we are not barbaric savages incapable of diplomacy. If we simply ignored their plea—if that _is_ truly why the Queen has contacted us—then we prove them right and show ourselves to be no better than what they think we are.”

“If joining forces is what the Queen has in mind, then I am certainly not against it,” Endy announced fervently, gleaning stunned looks from those around him. He scowled, fists clenching. “I hate the Alliance and what they’ve done to us just as much as you . . . but I think you’ll agree with me when I say that I hate the Negaverse and that bitch Beryl a whole lot more.” Grudging nods were given at that and Endy motioned with his hand. “If banding together is what it takes to drive these bastards out of our homes and lives for good then I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to see things go back to the way they were.”

“They’ll never go back to the way they _were,”_ Jorowyn snapped viciously, but then he sighed and took another calming pull of his draught. He wiped his chin of the excess with the back of one hand, then abruptly declared cattily, “however there _is_ potential here to get a significant amount of subtle revenge. If they’re this desperate for our help—as they must be, to even contact us—then Endy now has a very powerful trump card in his hand.”

“Like what?” Endymion demanded dubiously, crossing his arms. Jorowyn smirked.

“There isn’t anything that the Queen of Lunara values more highly than her precious daughter, Princess Serenity.” Endymion’s eyebrow twitched with annoyance.

“And?”

Jorowyn’s calculated smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Isn’t it about time you thought about marriage, Endymion?” The Lord King gasped, then, eyes widening with the implications as he finally caught on to the Phaetonian’s game.

“What?” Jadeite burst out, eyes wide. “Endy marry the Princess of Lunara?”

“You four as well,” Jorowyn insisted, sitting forward and setting his flask aside. The King of the South frowned, brow puckering with confusion.

“All . . . five of us . . . marry the Princess of Lunara? Is that even possible?”

“No, you dimwit,” Zoisite snapped, rolling his eyes. “He means that all five of us should marry _a_ princess.” He turned and locked eyes with his cunning cousin once more. “What I want to know is why he would think that.” Jorowyn sighed blandly.

“It’s quite simple, really. Princess Serenity is the only living heir to Lunara. So, married to Endymion—,”

“After the Queen was gone, _he_ would become the King of Lunara,” Nephrite finished in a stunned whistle. “And become the next Praetor of the Silver Alliance.”

“Heh, wouldn’t that just beat all,” Jade laughed. “An Earthling in command of all those pompous pricks.” Endymion was silent, expression thoughtful. Jadeite suddenly frowned again, and continued after a moment. “Why us, though? Why should _we_ get married?”

“The Silver Alliance works very much like a council,” Jorowyn explained lazily, sitting back again and seemingly basking in his moment of triumph as he explained his master plan. “The Queen of Lunara presides over it as Praetorian, but in the end, every major decision that is ever brought up before the Alliance is always put to a vote. After Earth is inducted—and after marrying Serenity—Endymion would carry three planetary votes; one for Earth and _two_ for Lunara. And then with all four of you wedding a Princess and being named King of your respective planetary Kingdoms . . . .”

“We’d hold the majority over the whole damn thing,” Zoisite breathed, stunned. The others fared no better. Malachite frowned however.

“Which is dangerous,” he spoke up disapprovingly. “Petty revenge aside, we know nothing of the other planets or how they’re run. Naming ourselves Kings of something we do not understand is foolhardy in the extreme. It’s asking for trouble.”

“We don’t know about them, but he does,” Nephrite countered, motioning to Jorowyn, who had recovered his flask and smirked around it as he took another drink. The dark-haired General turned to the Phaetonian then, highly intrigued. “What are the prospects?” Jorowyn muffled a belch, then began.

“Pluto is a planet of monks all devoted to the flow of time and guarding the Gates. It’s temperate there, but dark almost all of the time, being so far away from the sun. Uranus is a female-dominate society on a planet largely made up of windy meadowlands. Neptune is a water world of endless island chains and man-made floating cities. Saturn is somewhat similar to Earth, but with more emphasis on magic than steel. Jupiter is really wet, as it rains almost all of the time and consists of a huge, planet-wide swamp. The entire society live in the trees, rather than on the soggy ground, connected by massive bridge networks. Mars is a huge red-sand desert, and Venus is a tropical jungle, both very hot most of the time—with Mars being dry and arid and Venus being muggy and damp. All of Mercury is based on the dark side of the planet—as the sun’s heat makes living on the light side impossible even with Chrys-Tech shields. Even the dark side of the planet is near inhabitable, though, being several hundred degrees below freezing at the surface. The cities are all protected by shields, all interconnected with one another. Inside the domes is a hell of a lot more warm than outside, but even then it’s still chilly, the temperature similar to one of your Earthian winters, all the time. And finally, Lunara itself is beautiful beyond words if you’re a fan of polished white marble and silver crystal architecture. It has no natural vegetation whatsoever, everything is man-made. Aesthetically beautiful, but dead.” Jorowyn paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Last I heard, all the Kingdoms had eligible daughters, some more eligible than others.”

“What does that mean?” Endymion questioned and Jorowyn sighed.

“Well the Plutonian Princess—Trista—is serving her family’s pact and is locked away with the Time Gate, as per the contract that the Royal Family made eons ago with Chronus, the God of Time,” he began, sitting back. “Not exactly wifely material, there. And the Saturnite Princess—Hotaru—would barely be pushing fourteen if my memory serves, and I don’t think that any of you are the sort of men to fancy bedding down with children.” All four of them made faces of disgust, and Jorowyn nodded. “And the princesses of Uranus and Neptune . . . well . . . they’re kind’ve . . . .” Jorowyn paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words, and then finally settled on wiggling his hand. Jadeite scowled.

“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded, blandly imitating the gesture. Zoisite sighed loudly again.

“He means they’re lesbian,” he helpfully clarified, tone dry. Jadeite blinked.

“Oh.”

“Lovers together, actually, last I checked,” Jorowyn further added with a smirk. “So unless you want an even bigger fight on your hands on your wedding night, I’d leave Princess Amara and Princess Michelle to their . . .whatever,” Jorowyn finished, motioning again. “That leaves Mercury, Mars, Venus and Jupiter. I don’t know much about the princesses of those kingdoms, except that they’re all around the same age as Serenity, eighteen or nineteen or so now.”

“So, Endy marries the Princess of Lunara,” Nephrite murmured slowly after another slight pause, where-in they all mulled over the information that Jorowyn had just provided. The dark-haired man glanced at the Phaetonian curiously. “Where would you pair the rest of us off?” Jorowyn thought for a moment, taking another drink.

“Well Jupiter is a culture of warriors, in name if not in actual practice. They—and their Princess, Lita—would no doubt value strength and skill in battle the most in a leader. You would want your strongest warrior there.”

“While none of you are slouches on the battlefield,” Endymion murmured, “our strongest would definitely be Malachite.” Jorowyn nodded his agreement to this, then continued.

“Mars is a planet of soothsayers. Along with Princess Raye, they value empathy and wisdom above anything else.”

“That would be Nephrite,” Endymion inserted. “He has a tendency to ponder things more than the others.” Again the Phaetonian Prince nodded, both ignoring the dark-haired General’s disgruntled frown as to the blunt description.

“Mercury is, of course, a planet of intellectuals. At least they _think_ they’re intellectuals. Using my planet’s Chrys-Tech fed computer systems gives them a hell of an edge, but I’ll grudgingly admit that they’ve got some half-way intelligent scientists in residence. Obviously Princess Ami and the rest of them value intelligence in a leader.”

“That’d be Z,” Endymion murmured.

“Well that leaves me with Venus, then,” Jadeite called after a moment. “What about them?” Jorowyn grinned.

“Venusians are naturally beautiful, the whole lot of them, and said to be the best lovers in the solar-system. A non-Venusian rarely has enough stamina to keep up with their heightened sexual libidos. They’ve actually accidentally _killed_ other races during sex.” Jadeite’s eyes had become the size of saucers, while Nephrite and Zoisite chuckled at his expense. Jorowyn’s grin turned predatory. “They’re also a bit flighty and air-headed by nature, which includes their Princess Mina, and I’d say that makes them just about perfect for you Jade,” he finished in a mock salute, laughing at the golden-haired General’s growling scowl.

Endymion sighed then, however, delaying any immediate retort. The Lord King of Earth slowly nodded. “Very well, then. We will see where this course of action takes us. Let us go and say hello then, shall we?”

 

* * *

Jorowyn led the way into the communications room. The communicators were somewhat rigged together—he having built them himself with spare parts over the years—but functional nonetheless. A mass of wires and tubes crisscrossed about the chamber, connected to the five-by-five foot circular pad in the center of the room, and then the smaller, raised one slightly above it.

“Just step onto the pad, Endy,” Jorowyn instructed, moving over to the control panel and punching a few buttons. Endymion did as instructed, with Jadeite, Malachite, Nephrite and Zoisite taking up positions around the room behind him. Jorowyn continued to press buttons for several moments, but nothing happened.

“Are you sure this hunk of junk is gonna work?” Jadeite demanded dubiously after another uncomfortable pause, to which Jorowyn growled.

“I built it, of course it works!”

He stopped at the controls for a moment, glared down at the console, then suddenly reared back and began kicking it viciously. On the third one, the machinery suddenly came to life, lights blinking myriadly. Jorowyn grinned triumphantly, then went back to pecking buttons at a furious pace. “This outta be good,” he sneered, just before twisting the main dial and then flipping the switch beside it. The pad beneath Endymion’s feet hummed slightly, then began glowing with a soft white light. At the same time the smaller one before him flickered a few times, and then there was a miniature holographic image of a woman seated on a throne before him.

She was much older than he was, yet still quite beautiful, dressed all in white. Her silvery hair was done up in an odd fashion; two fist-sized buns on either side of her head, ending in long, thin ponytails that floated down to the ground on either side of her throne. Her gray eyes were sharp, mirror-like, her expression giving nothing away. What caught Endy’s attention the most however was the golden crescent-shaped marking on her forehead, and the aura of power that seemed to roll off of her in subtle waves. The woman straightened a fraction as soon as contact was made, then folded her hands regally in her lap.

“Ah, King Endymion I presume?” she called, her voice authoritative and terse. He nodded. “As you no doubt have guessed, I am Serenity, Queen of Lunara and Praetorian of the Silver Alliance.”

“I have heard of you,” he confirmed, standing tall and confidently, arms clasping behind his back. “I have also experienced first-hand your lack of interest in myself and my entire planet,” he continued tonelessly. “So forgive me, but let us cut through all the false pleasantries and get to the point of this transmission. Why have you contacted me now, after centuries of ignorance?”

The Queen sighed a small sigh, her expression unchanging, and Endymion fought off the impulse to feel rude and brutish. _She_ was the one who should feel uncomfortable, not him. “As you wish, King Endymion,” she seemed to heave, “I shall come straight to the point. For the past two years now, the evil that awoke on your planet has begun spreading into the rest of the solar system like a plague. I am not sure how, or why, but the attacks have been swift and merciless. The Kingdom of Pluto has all but fallen, and Saturn cannot be far behind. The Silver Alliance has recognized that we—that we _all—_ stand a much better chance of survival if we stand together in a united front.”

Endymion scoffed, causing her to blink slightly in surprise. “Begging your pardon, my Lady,” he sneered, “but we have been doing just fine without the help of the Alliance for thirteen years now. So if anyone is in desperate need of survival, my guess is that it would be you and your precious planetary coalition.” He saw her face tighten a fraction, but otherwise there was no reaction to his words. Endymion took a bracing breath. If he was going to pull this off, he’d have to be his most cunning self. There was too much at stake to screw up now. “Therefore,” he continued, “I see no reason why I should be interested in your proposal at all. You have nothing to offer me.”

“Earth would, of course, be inducted into the Silver Alliance,” she announced slowly, grudgingly, her tone gone brittle. Endymion bit back a laugh.

“Again, my Lady, I am hearing only one-sided benefits for yourselves, when it is _you_ who need _our_ help. It would be to your benefit to induct us into your alliance, not the other way around.” There was a long moment of silence then. Endymion thought he saw her hands tighten around the arm rests of her throne, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard her sigh again, longer this time, as if more set upon. Then,

“Very well, sir,” she murmured, tone notably colder now. “What is it you would ask of the Silver Alliance?”

“First let’s clear up exactly what it is we would be giving you,” he insisted, and she motioned somewhat impatiently for him to continue. “The use of our troops to fight your battles, the retraining of yours, the benefit of our extensive knowledge on the Negaverse and how it operates—,”

“You presume much to offer to train our regiments,” she snapped suddenly, interrupting him. “We have lived for _centuries_ longer than you have been—,”

“And that matters very little,” it was Endymion’s turn to cut her off with a scowl, “since we have managed to beat the Negaverse back on several occasions and hold them at bay for ten times as long as you have been _losing_ to them. That tells me one thing, that your troops are obviously in need of a few fresh tactics.”

She had no reply to this, merely scowled.

“In return for these services,” he continued, “and after other conditions are met, then Earth will agree to enter your Alliance and aid in the defeat of the Negaverse.” The Queen’s steely eyes narrowed.

“And just what are these _other conditions?”_ Endymion took a deep and fortifying breath.

“In return, I demand your daughter’s hand in marriage, and the marriage of my four Warrior Kings to four other planetary princesses.”

“Preposterous!” the Queen snarled, sitting away from the throne now, her icy mask finally cracking to show an expression of utter, indignant fury. “You have to be completely insane to think that I would even consider such terms!” She made a sound of disgust, shaking her head ruefully. “You think to gain the majority of the Alliance after this is all said and done, do you? Perhaps you Earthlings are more cunning than we originally gave you credit for. However, _my child_ is not a bartering piece I am willing to bargain with!”

“Those are my terms,” Endymion declared coldly, his expression set and his voice deadpan. “You turned your backs on us thirteen years ago and left my people to _die,_ they who were guilty of nothing more than where the fates had placed them at birth. You should be damned grateful, _my Lady,_ that I have not done the same to you and yours outright. This is the price for your arrogance and your narrow-minded cruelty of the past. Take it or leave it.”

With that he stepped off the communicator, and the link was immediately severed.


	3. The Council

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the alternate-universe thing really starts coming into play. I wanted to make each of the planetary kingdoms unique, so I based them all on a different style of actual earth culture. Purely fantasy, but I liked the little dash of pseudo-realism it gave. Hopefully you feel the same! :)

“This is ridiculous!”

“They’re far too presumptuous if they think we would even _consider_ such a course of action!”

“More like completely insane!”

After several more outbursts such as these, Queen Serenity finally got to her feet and called for order, her voice sharp and commanding. The large round table before her—filled with the royalty of the solar system—immediately hushed. The Queen of Lunara let her piercing gaze slowly swing around the Silver Alliance, her expression firm.

Queen Psyche sat immediately to Serenity’s right. The incredibly beautiful blonde Venusian was dressed in flowing, diaphanous peach-colored robes that left her arms bare, save for the delicate gold jewelry that encased them. Her head and neck decorated with the same, she cut quite an exotically attractive figure, and it was boasted that you would be hard pressed to find a more physically pleasing woman in the whole of the solar system. The Venusian Queen had never taken a husband, though she had had many consorts throughout her life, one of which had given her the woman’s equally attractive daughter, Mina. Deep golden eyes met Serenity’s steely gray for a brief moment. The Lunaran Queen well knew that the flighty stigma that frequently stained her people in no way reflected on their crafty, often subtly cunning Matriarch.

Next to Psyche was King Romulus and his lady wife, Queen Delphi of the desert Kingdom of Mars. The sable-haired man sat tall and proudly in black and white desert garb ornamented in red and gold. The Queen sat at his side draped from head to toe in scarlet silk—proclaiming her Seer status—her face half-enshrouded by gauzy material of the same color and several thin golden chains draped around her brow with disks hanging from them. The only thing visible were her violet eyes, which returned Serenity’s gaze with worry in their depths. Delphi was gifted with the ability of foresight, as was her daughter Raye. They had both seen the shadows of the future and warned that evil would befall them now like a disease without swift action to prevent it.

King Hector of Mercury sat next to them, absently adjusting the spectacles on his thin nose and gazing at Serenity expectantly. Hector looked more of an engineer than a King, complete with the oil smudge on the tip of his nose, the stained coveralls that he wore and the workman’s goggles still slung absently around his neck and apparently forgotten. His pale blonde hair was streaked in silver, but there was nothing dulled in the sharpness of his ice-blue eyes. Hector’s wife, Queen Ismene, had been dead for many years. She had died in rearing their only daughter, Ami, and he had never taken another.

King Theseus of Jupiter was next, the tall and brawny man dwarfing all others at the table. His trappings were that of leather armor and any ornamentation was sparse, only his long flowing tail of silver-streaked light brown hair and fierce black eyes. The great giant crossed his arms now, expression brooding. It was said that one of the few things that could ever force the foreboding man to soften his expression was his tempestuous daughter, Lita.

The next figure seated at the table forced Serenity’s hard expression to gentle with sympathy. A tiny girl, no older than fourteen, sat quietly in one of the two seats provided for the planet of Saturn. She was dressed in an ornate violet silk robe that seemed far too austere for one so young, with a high neck tooled in silver and several clasps of the same down the front of it. Soft black hair fell on either side of her pale face, her head currently bowed now and somewhat hiding her two amethyst eyes as well as the intricate silver circlet around her brow. Little Hotaru, now the Queen and sole ruler of her Kingdom, who had seen the death of her parents as well as her two older brothers this past year along with over half of her people. Serenity’s heart went out to her. Thus far the child had shown amazing poise and discipline, yet the fact remained that she was still barely fourteen, now forced to shoulder the responsibility of an entire planet on her own.

Next to Hotaru sat King Oceanus and Queen Amphitrite of the aquatic Kingdom of Neptune. Both were draped in intricate silk and leather trappings, which would have been considered immodest to most. For their home, however, the less weight to drag them down in the water, the better. They made up for the lack of cloth with metal, pearl and coral jewelry and other adornments. The King had a head of dark sapphire hair and equally unfathomable blue eyes, while his wife sported brilliant aqua green tresses and blue eyes of her own. Their daughter Michelle and their son Triton both took after their mother in looks.

Next to the Neptunians sat Queen Rhea of the windy Kingdom of Uranus. She was another that had never married, though for her female-dominated society that was not uncommon. The tall, well-built and attractive woman—with ink-black hair and dark blue eyes—had had many consorts in her life as well. Though unlike Psyche—who had allowed herself only one child—Rhea had borne several offspring. Only one of them was female, however, and would therefore succeed her to the throne—her eldest child, Amara.

The chairs of Pluto sat empty. The few Plutonians who had had time to flee before their planet was nearly destroyed and occupied by the forces of the Negaverse were all staying here on Lunara for the time being. Their prized princess, Trista, still sat alone with the Time Gate—unable and unwilling to leave her sworn duty.

Queen Serenity sighed after she’d stared at each in turn, then shook her head slowly.

“I realize that this goes against every moral edict and sacred law that we and our ancestors have held dear for hundreds of centuries. However, much as it pains me to have to say it . . . at this point, I really do not see any other choice that we have left.”

“But our daughters, Serenity?” Amphitrite murmured sadly.

“Surely there must be another solution,” Hector insisted, absently adjusting the thin-frame spectacles on his nose.

“And not only that,” Theseus growled soon after. “Give them Princess Serenity and four of our daughters and the bastards will hold majority over the entire Silver Alliance!”

“I say we wait them out, call their bluff,” Romulus demanded.

“They surely cannot think that we would ever actually agree to such nonsense,” Oceanus seconded.

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Psyche argued dryly. “One more month unaided and Saturn will be completely lost to the beasts, and then it will only be a matter of time before they shift their attentions to the rest of us.”

“So why not trade your only child to the Earthlings like a common whore,” Rhea sneered bitterly, winning a dark scowl from the Venusian Queen. “It’s only her dignity and her virtue at stake. But then, what _is_ that to a Venusian, really? They’d spread their legs for a dog on a whim.”

“At least we don’t pretend to be something we’re not,” Psyche shot back venomously. Rhea half rose from the table, hand reaching for the sword on her hip.

“Just what is _that_ supposed to mean?” Serenity finally intervened.

“Enough, the both of you!” she snapped, and the other two Matriarchs grudgingly backed down, though not without dirty looks in the others’ direction.

“Psyche is right,” Delphi murmured softly, then. “I have seen it. Without help, the Alliance will surely fall.”

“Is any price so high, to save a life?”

Everyone else in the room suddenly turned to the young Hotaru, who had remained silent up until now. Her head was raised at last, and her soulful violet eyes gazed at each in turn, anguish etched into every square inch of them. Few could muster the courage to hold that gaze for long, shamed. “Is any price so unreasonable,” she continued, voice soft and warbling, “if it meant keeping the ones you love safe and free from harm?”

“The child is right,” Serenity affirmed after a moment of uncomfortable quiet. “Too long have we clung to this self-righteous pride and arrogance. Coeus tried to warn us before, and we would not see it then. Look at where that superiority has led us; two kingdoms destroyed, a third fast on its way and our only hope for survival resting in the hands of those who are the least inclined to give it.” Serenity sat heavily in her chair, head shaking with resignation, her eyes drifting up to the ceiling with defeat. “The boy said it best. This is the price we have wrought for our actions past,” she murmured, tone tired. Then her eyes came back to rest on the assembled and her expression was firm and in command once more. “I now put it to a vote. All those in favor of granting Earth admittance into the Alliance—and betrothal to our daughters—say yea. Those not in favor say nay.”

Serenity turned to Psyche first. “What say you, Kingdom of Venus?”

“Yea,” she murmured after a slight moment of deliberation. Serenity nodded.

“What say you, Kingdom of Mars?”

“Nay,” Romulus spouted immediately. His wife quickly jabbed him in the ribs, and after a fierce glare and a few words of their silent mind-speech, the flushing man quickly changed his vote to a grudging, “yea.” Serenity nodded again, a slight twitch to her lips that might have been a smile. Then she turned to Theseus.

“What say you, Kingdom of Jupiter?”

“Nay,” the large man rumbled, expression dark. “There has to be another way than this.” Serenity sighed, but acknowledged his vote.

“What say you, Kingdom of Mercury?”

“Nay,” Hector murmured softly, not meeting her gaze. “I could never do that to my Ami.”

“What say you, Kingdom of Neptune?” Amphitrite and Oceanus conferred softly for a moment, then the King straightened with a sour look.

“Nay. I cannot condone this.” Serenity nodded again, then turned to a scowling Rhea.

“What say you, Kingdom of Uranus?”

“Nay,” she snapped, “as if you really had to ask.” Serenity gave her a reproachful look in return, but then turned to Hotaru.

“What say you, Kingdom of Saturn,” she questioned gently.

“Yea,” she answered readily, though whisper soft. “If it means saving anyone else the hell I have endured, no price is too steep.”

Serenity sat back then and released yet another bone weary sigh. Yet again, it would come down to her to decide.

“I, on behalf of Lunara and that of the Silver Alliance vote . . . yea.” Rhea made a noise of disgust, sitting back in her chair heavily. Oceanus only sighed disapprovingly, with Amphitrite shaking her head, eyes tearing with sorrow. The others kept to themselves as Serenity calmly continued. “Four votes against, five votes in favor. Thus it has been decided. We will adjourn for now and convene again in three days time. You will each bring with you your eldest daughter to be chosen by the Earth Generals, their hands in marriage in exchange for Earth’s support in the war against the Negaverse.” Rhea continued to bluster and Serenity pinned her to the seat with a scathing look. “Failure to comply with the ruling of this council will forfeit all claims to its protection,” she reminded them all sternly.

At that the meeting was closed. Everyone but Serenity and Hotaru immediately got to their feet and slowly filed out of the huge chamber, to the transporter where they would be sent back to their own homeworlds. Hotaru, who had been staying on Lunara ever since her parents’ deaths, got to her feet more slowly and hesitated for a moment, then slowly exited as well.

Serenity was left alone in the vast chamber then, the silence like a tangent thing upon her narrow shoulders, weighing her down. Guilt burned heavily in her gut. She knew naught of this boy-king, Endymion. Only that he was a capable enough leader, firm but fair, and an exceptional warrior. Still, it was not nearly enough to allay her fears and doubts concerning what she had just decided. In exchange for the safety of all, she had just traded away her only daughter’s freedom. The Queen released a shaky sigh, leaning over and placing her face in her hands, only now that she was alone allowing her hard mask to fall away. Her two ponytails slipped around her, the silvery strands cascading down like a cloak.

Princess Serenity, her daughter, was all that the Queen had left of her beloved husband Phoebus. She doted heavily upon the golden-haired child as a result, loved her more than anything else in this universe . . . and yet her duty to the Alliance still came first. She had just proven that irrevocably. Serenity now wondered sorrowfully how she was ever going to live with that choice.

“My Lady?” Serenity straightened and turned at the sound of someone’s voice, then relaxed again upon seeing Luna standing there beside her. The Mauian changeling had been her companion for nearly all her life. More than her subject, Luna had become Serenity’s closest friend and confidant, the two even marrying on the same day; Serenity to a Venusian prince and Luna to another Mauian, Artemis. They had nearly given birth on the same day as well; Serenity with her daughter of the same name, and then three days later Luna went into labor and gave life to a little girl of her own, Diana. It wasn’t a hard decision at all for the Queen to name Luna’s daughter as Princess Serenity’s companion, and much like their mothers, the two had been inseparable ever since.

“Oh Luna,” Serenity murmured mournfully now, “what in stars’ name have I done?”

The violet-haired Mauian sighed and sat beside her Queen, her deep yellow and soft lavender robes swirling around her bare ankles and feet. She lifted a hand and covered Serenity’s own. “That which _had_ to be done,” Luna assured firmly.

“But Serenity’s freedom?” the Queen demanded, lifting her tired eyes to her companion. “My daughter’s happiness? To trade her away to a complete stranger, against her will no less . . . .”

“The Princess will understand, in time, that sacrifices must sometimes be made for the greater good,” Luna admonished gently, “just as you have proven here today.” The Queen sighed at that and nodded, though her expression looked no less haunted.

“I pray that with time she might find it in her heart to forgive me for what I am about to make her do because, stars know, she will not understand.”

“I think the Princess understands far more than most give her credit for,” Luna insisted cagily. “Give her a chance, Serenity. I think your daughter just might surprise you.”

The Queen paused for a moment more, then suddenly gained her feet. “Have the preparations made, Luna,” she announced, her voice strong once more, her expression again somber and devoid of emotion. The grieving mother had been set aside and the Praetorian Queen was once again in command. She led the way out of the council chamber, head held proudly and gait swift, full of purpose. “Double the guard, spare all that you can from the front lines for the Earthlings’ arrival. I want no chances taken. There are bound to be fights breaking out, and the fewer that come to bloodshed the better. Have a ball arranged, to commemorate the occasion. Spare no expense.”

Serenity continued to rattle off a list of things that needed to be done until the two women came to the corridor that would lead to her daughter’s room. Luna took the hint and bowed before turning around and going back the way she’d come, to begin on her listed duties. The Queen hesitated a moment longer, building her resolve, then finally swept down the corridor and gently opened the single door.

Laughter met her ears, the sheer exuberance of it melting away a fraction of her tension and causing the Queen to smile. Her child had that effect on many, it was said.

Princess Serenity sat in the center of her huge four-poster bed, her golden hair spilling loose about her slender frame, as it was currently being brushed out by Diana. Her winter-blue eyes twinkled with mirth as she called something playful to her companion before making a swipe at the frowning changeling with a pillow.

Diana tumbled right off the bed as a result, letting out a painful squawk. This sent the Princess into hysterics, rolling around on the bed and holding her belly, gasping for breath afterward. Indignant, the silver-haired Mauian shot to her feet and gave her Princess a glare, her red eyes flashing. Her long gray, cat-like tail twitched behind her with agitation.

“Ha, ha,” she droned flatly. “Very funny, Sere. See if I ever do _you_ any more favors.” She tossed the brush she’d been holding onto the dresser. “You can very well brush your own rat’s nest from now on.”

“Rat’s nest?!” the Princess squeaked inelegantly. “I’ll have you know that _this,”_ she grabbed a handful of the gold stuff for emphasis, “is the finest hair in the solar system.”

“Finest _horse_ hair maybe,” Diana muttered, then barked with laughter and nimbly sidestepped the pillow that a vengeful Serenity threw. The Queen gently cleared her throat then, bringing both girls up short. Diana blanched and quickly bowed her head, folding her hands in front of herself respectfully, while the Princess beamed.

“Mother!” she cried, bounding off the bed and hurrying toward her. “Is the council finished already?” The Queen smiled.

“Yes, Sere.” She paused for an uncomfortable moment, then lifted her gaze to the Mauian. “Diana, would you please excuse us. I would like to speak with my daughter alone for a moment.”

Confusion and curiosity came upon both of them at that, but Diana obediently bowed again and then quickly left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?” the eighteen year old Serenity questioned, brow puckered. “What’s wrong?”

“Come and sit with me, Sere,” the Queen murmured, taking her smaller daughter by the shoulder and gently urging the girl back to the bed. Serenity did as she was asked, sitting in the center of the huge canopy bed again, watching her pensive mother curiously as the older woman recovered the brush and then sat behind her. The Queen began running the soft bristles through her daughter’s long blonde tresses, stalling for time as she struggled to find a way to approach the subject.

“I have kept much of the horrors of the past two years from your eyes, Sere,” she began slowly, “and I do think that it was for the best. You were too young then, to understand. But you are a woman now,” she announced with a smile, though it faded again as she continued with, “and it is time you know the truth.”

“I know that people are dying, mother,” Serenity suddenly whispered, voice soft and sad. The Queen blinked, surprised, as her daughter continued. “I’ve talked with Hotaru and some of the soldiers. Horrible things have happened to good people, haven’t they.”

“Yes. Yes they have,” the Queen agreed, silently marveling. Perhaps Luna was right. “But we . . . _you_ have a chance to prevent that same horrific fate from befalling more good people.”

Serenity turned to face her mother, blue eyes wide.

“I do?! How?” The Queen hesitated again, hand tightening around the handle of the brush. She took a fortifying breath.

“The planet of Earth has been fighting this evil for much longer than we have, and they seem to have discovered a way to fight it effectively where we have not. I have petitioned them for aid, but they will not give it without a price paid.” The younger Serenity scowled at that.

“Well that’s kind of petty of them,” she declared angrily, incensed. “Why would they put a price on saving innocent lives?” The Queen blanched.

“It is rather complicated, child,” she hedged. “I shall just say that the King of Earth has his reasons, however poor in timing. He is not completely unjustified in his demands.” The Princess mulled over that for a moment, then raised her eyes again and asked the question that Serenity was dreading.

“So . . . what is this price that they ask? Gold? What does it have to do with me?” The Queen bit her lip, then,

“In return for troops and assistance, the King of Earth has demanded that I . . . that I give him your hand in marriage.” The Princess gasped, eyes rounding with shock. “As well as marry another planetary princess to each of his Warrior Kings, there-by giving them the Silver Alliance and a majority of the vote.”

Serenity could only stare in mute astonishment, overcome. The Queen’s guilt flared again and she sighed heavily, setting the brush aside.

“I know how awful this must seem to you, Sere. Believe me, if there were any other way around this I would have taken it. However I . . . I cannot risk the death of millions. And Lady Delphi has foreseen it, if we do not let the Earthlings have their way. All of us are doomed to darkness if we do not concede.”

Serenity’s blue eyes suddenly became glassy. “So you . . . you agreed to these terms, then,” she warbled, and the Queen’s expression tightened with pain and with resolve.

“I did.”

Her daughter let out the air she’d been holding in a heavy rush. Then the girl quickly began hyperventilating, staring around in dazed shock as the tears that had gathered finally spilled loose down her cheeks. The Queen took hold of her and held her rigid body close, her eyes squeezing shut against her own tears.

“Oh Sere, I am sorry! So sorry. I wish there was another way, but there isn’t! We _must_ have the aid of the Earthlings or all is lost! I know it is hard, but sometimes a princess—a _Queen—_ must put aside her personal desires for the greater good.” Serenity’s breathing had quieted down by now, and the Queen felt her heave a deep sigh. She gave her daughter a comforting squeeze. “I know you are strong, my angel. Stronger even than I.” The Princess gave a disbelieving snort to that, to which the Queen chuckled. “You may not see it yet, but I do. I always have.”

After another moment the Princess pulled away, wiping at her eyes, trying to hide the tears that had fallen. She tried desperately—valiantly—to put on a brave face now and the Queen’s heart squeezed with pain and pride at the sight.

“Well then,” Serenity suddenly murmured, tone off-hand, “what is his name, this man I am to marry?” The Queen forced a tight smile, ignoring the hurt in her own heart.

“They call him Endymion.”


	4. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of character descriptions in this one, hope it's not too boring. :)

Serenity stood with her mother three days later—both dressed in their most regal white gowns, complete with elegant gold jewelry and other accessories—as they waited in the enormous chamber within the Grand Palace of Lunara. Just beyond where they stood rested the large planetary transporter, being prepared to receive the other members of the Silver Alliance.

Hotaru stood with them as well. The somber girl wore black from head to toe, in a sleeveless gown adorned with intricate silver and violet patterning, which had a high mandarin collar with silver frog clips down the front. The skirt was narrow and long with a pleat down the middle, pooling at her feet. Around her brow was the thin, delicate crown of Saturn, silvery beads hanging down over her straight black hair. The child Queen stood straight, poised, waiting patiently for the others to begin arriving.

Technicians began hustling around the huge metal ring, which was inert for the moment. As Serenity watched however, the ring slowly began to spin, the lights and runes surrounding it shifting, blinking and glowing in synchronization. One of the technicians punched in the necessary coordinates and then suddenly the space inside the ring twisted hard and contorted like a whirlpool of water. Colors and lights flashed myriadly, and then the center stilled again to show the landscape of Mercury’s capital city. Towering buildings of light and glass spiraled upward to unimaginable heights, creating a magnificent backdrop for the two figures standing on the other side. They hesitated a moment before walking through. There was a ripple as if they were moving through a pool of liquid, and then the King of Mercury and his only daughter stood on the receiving platform.

Princess Ami, as she was called, had short-cropped sapphire blue hair and matching blue eyes. Currently she wore a light blue tunic edged in white fur, with belled transparent sleeves, the hem leaving just a touch of her flat belly bare. A large white belt strapped diagonal across her thin waist and then a filmy, layered skirt hung loose. It stopped at the knee on one side and—following the diagonal cut of the belt—the other dragged the floor. Finishing her outfit, Ami wore knee-high white boots and matching silver cuffs around both wrists and neck.

Ami and her father stepped down off the platform and then came to stand next to Hotaru. The Mercurian Princess murmured a few kind words to the dreary girl, which won her a slight smile and a nod before both of them turned back to the front.

The transporter reverted back to the colorful whirl, and then it stopped again suddenly, revealing the sweltering tropical paradise that was Venus. Two more figures stepped through the threshold, revealing the Queen of Venus and her daughter, Mina.

The Venusian Princess possessed a mane of long, luxuriant lemon blonde hair that spilled down her back to her knees and a pair of cornflower blue eyes, exotically beautiful just like her mother. Mina wore soft yellow robes today that hung off one shoulder, leaving the other bare, with the center cut artfully out of the front to reveal a taught, tanned stomach encircled by a thin golden chain. Both arms were adorned in delicate gold bracelets and armbands, with matching chains around her neck and a pair of crisscrossing golden sandals on her feet. The normally chipper and happy-go-lucky Princess was unusually somber today, and all well knew the reason. She and her mother quickly joined the others, turning back to witness the arrival of the next party.

Again the transporter shifted, soon revealing a harsh landscape of ruddy red sands swirling restlessly with the wind even as they watched. Three figures quickly stepped through; the King and Queen of Mars, along with their daughter, Raye.

Raye was dressed in ruby red robes similar to her mothers, though hers did not completely cover her tanned arms, and the gauzy cloth draping around her head was transparent, allowing her long black hair to tumble loose behind her down to her thighs. A single chain wound around her forehead, five small golden disks jangling musically from it as the sour-faced princess descended with her parents, her violet eyes hot with barely contained displeasure.

Once again the transporter changed scenery, revealing what appeared to be a marshy forest beset by a violent thunderstorm, complete with brilliant flashes of lightening and blinding sheets of rain. Two more figures stepped through the portal, one the hulking King of Jupiter and the other his tall daughter, Lita.

The Princess of Jupiter had a high ponytail of auburn curls that fell down to her shoulder-blades, sharp green eyes and a stormy frown on her rain-misted face. The eighteen year old wore a dark green—nearly black—pair of leather breeches that hugged her long legs like a second skin and a heavy forest green jacket over the top of a billowy white tunic. Lita wore no other ornamentation other than the earrings in her ears, a pair of rose-pink quartz cut into the shape of blooming roses which had belonged to her now-dead mother. The Jovian Princess stepped forward with her father after a moment, neither looking pleased.

Again, a shift, now to show a vast stretch of grasslands, currently being assaulted by tumultuous winds. Two tall feminine figures stepped forward, both with matching expressions of disgust on their faces.

Princess Amara stood stall and confidently next to her mother, her short-cropped tawny hair wind-tossed and her Prussian blue eyes steely. She was dressed as the Queen was, in a dark blue leather breastplate armor cut for a woman, ornamented in silver, with a matching leather skirt that came to mid-thigh and slit up to her hip on one side. She also had on matching wrist gauntlets and knee-high boots. Amara wore no other jewelry or accessory, shunning such things. Both she and her mother lazily strolled from the platform, taking their place beside those already assembled, though certainly not without a grudging mutter of disgust on the Queen’s part.

And finally, the transporter shifted to that of a huge dock area, giving way to the vast open oceans of teal blue beyond. Three figures quickly stepped through, the King and Queen of Neptune and their daughter, Michelle.

The Neptunian Princess possessed a mane of aqua green hair, thick and curly, that barely passed her shoulders and a pair of soft blue eyes. She wore a turquoise bikini top held together with intricate pink coral and silver fastenings, and a string of the same wound around her waist and hips three times over, holding in place what appeared to be two separate swaths of matching blue-green cloth that sort of served as a skirt. Otherwise her legs were bare, as were her feet, both slender ankles adorned in silver and pearl jewelry.

After the Neptunians joined them, the congregated stood back from the transporter in a half circle—a receiving line of sorts. There was a moment of hesitation as the new coordinates for Earth were entered. And then the center swirled about madly again. When it was settled, there was only a dimly lit chamber with barely any light. The transporter hummed as a single shadowy figure stepped through. When he did, the entire congregation gasped with shock.

The Prince of Phaeton—long since thought dead—sneered at all of them as he saluted with a silver flask.

“Don’t everybody greet me all at once,” Jorowyn sneered before taking a drink of whatever it was in his flask. Serenity could only blink, flabbergasted. He had changed so much! Gone was the well-groomed, gently smiling, articulate philosopher that she remembered. In his place stood a haggard, weary man dressed in a barely-laced white tunic and stained brown leather breeches. His long red-gold hair—once a glorious mane of shining curls that had made more than one maid sigh with envy—now hung about his frame in oily, dull and tangled tendrils. His pale green eyes were sunken, rimmed in purple and giving him an almost sickly appearance.

“We thought you had died, Jorowyn,” the Queen called after a moment of her own shock, causing the deposed prince to let out a bark of sneering laughter.

“Oh Serenity, your ignorance never ceases to amaze me,” he called, causing the woman in question to scowl with affront. He continued to chuckle as he stepped off the platform, wiping his mouth of the drink that had trickled past. “I _am_ dead, you’re just too blind to see it.” He loped closer, and the Princess had to turn away slightly with a wince at the stench of alcohol that rolled off of him. His pale eyes were like mirrors as they glared down into the Praetorian Queen’s. “I died the day you turned your backs on us and consigned my father, my family, my people, my entire _planet_ to complete annihilation. Stranded and completely forgotten about on Earth, I learned very quickly who my real friends were. Rest assured that I will never repeat my father’s mistake, which was to naïvely put his faith and trust into the hands of the likes of _you.”_

The Queen didn’t respond, merely stood her ground with her head held high. Jorowyn eventually sneered at this and turned away again, shaking his head. He stumbled a little as he made his way toward the transporter controls.

“I should have known,” the Mercurian King suddenly called, frowning. “Earthlings wouldn’t know enough about our laws to have come up with such a cunning, manipulative plan as this. They would had to have had an outside influence.”

Jorowyn merely rolled his eyes. “My, that only took you . . . what, four days and a slap in the face to figure out? Stars, my father’s equipment must be in complete ruination by now with morons like you in charge of it.”

Hector scowled at this, but said nothing else.

“Well let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” the Phaetonian called, shoving the technician away from the control panel and taking charge of it himself. He punched in several new coordinates, fingers flying across the keys, then hit the activation button.

The chaotic center stilled soon after to reveal a large, stone-made castle set into an atmosphere very similar to Venus, though a little less vibrant. A man stepped through, dressed in resplendent silver armor trimmed in dark blue, a matching cape billowing out around his frame. He had golden blonde hair, cut short and very curly, with dark blue eyes and a quirk to his lips that seemed to belie the stony expression currently on his handsome face. A wicked-looking bastard sword was strapped around his waist, and with the way his gauntleted hand casually rested atop the pommel, Serenity had no doubts in her mind that the man knew well how to use it.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Silver Annihilators, allow me to present Lord Jadeite of Earth, Warrior King of the South and Fourth General of Her Armies.”

Lord Jadeite gave a small nod of his head in acknowledgement, then stepped off to the side and stood at attention. Serenity herself stared avidly, somewhat fascinated, perhaps more than was proper but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Here was one of the now-legendary Warrior Kings that she’d been hearing so much about. She had to admit, she was not disappointed. He was even more handsome than the rumors gave them credit for.

Jorowyn pressed several buttons on the transporter and it shifted again to reveal another castle resting in the middle of an evergreen forest. Another man stepped through, dressed in the same type of armor, though his was lined in red with a long cape to match it. He was taller than the first, with a full mane of oak-brown hair and paler blue eyes that were like ice as they glared out at the congregated. This one had no sword, but his wrists were reinforced with fighting bracers that could do severe damage if equipped on a man who knew how to use them properly. He definitely seemed to fit that bill.

“Lord Nephrite,” Prince Jorowyn called almost lazily. “Warrior King of the West and Third General of Earth’s Armies.”

Lord Nephrite repeated his fellow’s gesture, then went to stand beside him. Both men were eyeing the assembled curiously, with not an ounce of nervousness or apprehension, which seemed to unnerve Serenity for some reason. Should something happen, they were only two men against countless others, yet they had utterly no fear? Just how powerful _were_ these warriors of Earth?

Again the transporter shifted, this time to a castle home set into a vast meadowland, trees sparsely dotting the landscape with what looked to be pink leaves coating their tops. Serenity found herself wondering curiously what sort of tree would have pink leaves in it, though the man that stepped through the threshold then made the princess blink, do a double take and forget all about trees.

He could pass for the Prince of Phaeton—at least the way she remembered Jorowyn—so much so that the two could be twins. They had the same exact curly red-gold hair, his pulled back into a loose ponytail that fell to his narrow waist. His eyes were green as well, though upon closer inspection they were much darker than Jorowyn’s. The slender male was dressed as the Warrior Kings were—silver plate armor trimmed in deep green. The sword at his hip was a thin, deadly rapier.

“Lord Zoisite,” Jorowyn announced, waving his hand wildly for emphasis. “Warrior King of the East and Second General of Earth’s Armies. Also my cousin, so you all can lose the looks of horror and astonishment.” Jorowyn’s grin turned sneering. “The universe wouldn’t know what to do with two of me.”

Lord Zoisite turned to give his cousin an admonishing stare, then nodded to the congregation before turning to stand with the other two.

Again the transporters changed, and this time Serenity stared out into an icy, mountainous wasteland. There was a lone castle standing sentinel as the snow and sleet thundered past, slightly larger than the last three. A huge figure swept through then, bringing with him a swirl of white powdery snow. Serenity gasped along with several others at the sight of him.

While all of the men who had stepped through the portal thus far were attractive in their own right, this one seemed almost unearthly so. He had pale blonde hair so fair it was nearly white, falling heavily to his shoulders and down his broad back, brushing into a pair of stormy silver eyes. His skin was surprisingly dark, darker than should have been possible in such a home that he had just come from. If she didn’t know any better, Serenity would suspect that the man had Venusian blood in his veins. Then she took in his flat, emotionless stare and changed her mind. The man wore armor that was only slightly more elaborate than his fellows, trimmed in pale blue with a white cape that was fastened to his shoulder guards, falling behind him to the heels of his painfully polished boots. The enormous great sword strapped to his back was nearly as big as he was, and Serenity could only gulp fearfully.

His fellows were famous . . . this one was _infamous_. It was whispered among the soldiers that she had spoken to that no one—not man, beast and perhaps even the Gods themselves—could defeat this warrior in a one-on-one test of blades.

“Lord Malachite,” Jorowyn announced with a burping brandish. “Warrior King of the North and First General of Earth’s Armies.”

His snapping salute was painfully perfect, down to the letter, before he turned smartly and took his place at the others’ sides. Serenity took a shuddering breath then, absently running her clammy hands down the sides of her skirt and trying to calm her jittery nerves. There was only one man now left to arrive.

“And finally, the man of the hour,” Jorowyn confirmed, pressing buttons furiously. The transporter came to a stop on an enormous golden palace set into what looked to be a veritable forest of rosebushes. The sight was breathtaking—one to give even the Grand Palace of Lunara a run for its money—even the stern King of Jupiter gasped. A tall man slowly stepped through the gateway. “I give you the Lord King of Earth, Commander of Her Armies and _your_ future Praetorian,” Jorowyn added with a malicious grin, “Lord Endymion!”

The transporter stilled with a swirling fanfare to reveal a tall young man dressed from head to toe in resplendent black plate armor with a brilliant golden rose emblazoned across the center of the chest plate, the rest trimmed in the same color. He possessed a thin gold band around his brow, half covered by the sable black bangs, which also hung into a pair of blue eyes that seemed as deep and fathomless as the midnight sky. A deadly long sword was strapped to his hip, a black cape fluttering about his armored frame, lined in blood red. He stood solidly before the assembled, proud, confident, without a trace of nervousness or fear.

Serenity could only gape, eyes wide, somewhere in the back of her mind dully registering the fact that she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything half so magnificent in her entire life.

Queen Serenity stepped forward then, clearing her throat.

“Welcome to my Kingdom, men of Earth. May this be the first in a long line of many days celebrating our friendship.” Jorowyn crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Lord Endymion inclined his head to that as the four Warrior Kings took up their positions behind him. Then, as one, the five men slowly descended off the arrival platform. Jorowyn followed behind after shutting down the transporter with a flippant jab of his elbow.

The Queen motioned to the long line of people standing beside her. Princess Serenity managed to somehow hide herself behind her mother, shielding herself from those piercing blue eyes for now.

“Fellow members of the Silver Alliance,” the Queen announced. “We will make more formal introductions tonight at the ball I’ve arranged in honor of your arrival.” Again Jorowyn scoffed.

“Why is it you people have to celebrate _everything_ with a damned ball?”

“Jorowyn.” All the Lord King did was murmur the Phaetonian’s name, tone soft with warning, without even looking back. The Phaetonian rolled his eyes again, but hushed.

“For now,” the Queen continued, her tone beginning to tighten with the strain that Jorowyn’s constant jibes and taunts were causing, “please allow my daughter and her companions to show you and your Generals where you may rest and prepare for the festivities tonight. On the morrow, the council shall reconvene and we will work out whatever details that must be seen to for our alliance to be finalized.”

The Princess did her best to gulp down the huge lump of nervous fear in her throat, then forced herself to step away from behind her mother and meet the Lord King of Earth—the man who would be her husband very soon—for the first time. He stared down at her, and for a moment she thought she detected a hint of surprise flash in his eyes, his eyebrows raising a little. Yet as quickly as she had seen the reaction, it was buried again, replaced by his deadpan mask. Instead he merely nodded politely to her nervous curtsy. Serenity’s eyes fell away to the ground then, too shy and afraid to maintain the contact any longer.

At a gesture from the Queen, Princesses Ami, Raye, Mina and Lita stepped forward as well and approached. Lord Malachite was given to the Venusian Princess to guide, Lord Nephrite to the Princess of Jupiter, Lord Zoisite to the Princess of Mercury and finally Lord Jadeite was paired with the scowling Princess of Mars.

Serenity watched somewhat apprehensively as her mother and the other royals departed first, then the other girls led their charges away. She hesitated for a moment longer, then cleared her throat.

“Well then, please follow me, my Lord,” she murmured, her voice whisper soft. Then she began leading him out and toward the rooms that had been prepared for him. The King of Earth followed her wordlessly through the many corridors of the Palace. Serenity had been instructed previously by her mother to take him to one of the larger state bedrooms—seconded only by the master suite in size and splendor. Her mother wanted no chance of any sort of offense created due to oversight or misunderstanding. Too much depended on this one man’s good will.

The pair arrived in due time, and Serenity opened the door before stepping aside and clasping her hands before her. The Lord King paused at the doorway, looking in, his expression still unreadable. Serenity bit her lip after a slight, uncomfortable pause.

“I-I hope everything is to your satisfaction, my Lord?”

He turned away from the room, his eyes falling back on her face at that. He gave a slight upward quirk of his chin. “It’s fine,” he assured, almost absently.

She fidgeted for a moment, silently arguing with herself over the wisdom of her next words, then finally blurted, “why do you insist on doing this?” She managed to surprise him with that, finally. His eyebrows lifted completely, dark eyes startled.

“Doing what?” he demanded then, tone soft. Soft with what, anger or curiosity, she couldn’t tell. Serenity felt her body start to tremble, but forced herself to continue.

“Why are you putting such a heavy price on saving innocent lives? Isn’t it in everyone’s best interest to ally together to defeat the Negaverse? For what purpose do you want to wrest control of the Alliance and the other Kingdoms?” Serenity hesitated, then finished in a softer, fainter voice, “why do you insist on forcing me to marry you?”

His face had gone cold again long before she finished. The dark-haired Earthian King merely sneered, shaking his head before stepping into the room he’d been given. “If you want the answer to those questions, princess, I suggest you ask your mother,” he threw over his shoulder, just before the door closed behind him. “I’m sure the discussion will be enlightening.”

And then the door was shut, and she was left staring after him in the hallway. The Lunaran Princess crossed her arms over herself, suddenly feeling chilled. Suddenly her future was looking even more dreary than before. Marriage to a stranger was bad enough, but marriage to a stranger who automatically hated you without ever being given a reason? That was much, much worse.

Serenity turned and hurried away then, doing her best to fight off the swift stab of tears in her eyes and the pain deep in her heart. She had to stay strong. She had to persevere, for everyone else’s sake. Her mother, her Kingdom, the entire galaxy was counting on her. And maybe, if she kept reminding herself that, she’d be alright. Maybe.


	5. Setting the Stage

“Follow me,” Raye ordered in a clipped tone, putting herself directly in front of the golden-haired powerhouse the Earthlings called Jadeite. Her parents and all of the other Royals had departed from the outer courtyard, leaving only herself, the other princesses and the five men of Earth. Raye ignored all but Lord Jadeite, however, and focused her attention solely on him.

He blinked a few times, slightly taken back by her forceful nature no doubt. Perhaps Earth women were expected be quiet and demure at all times. She inwardly scoffed. He’d best not choose _her_ for a bride, if that were the case.

While the man stood there—blinking at her like a dumbfounded owl—the Princess of Mars was unwillingly struck by how handsome he was. Dark sun-kissed skin that said he had spent more than his fair share out-of-doors, golden blonde curls and a pair of baby blue eyes that could melt ice. Raye felt her face tighten into an even more profound expression of displeasure and annoyance. She didn’t want to find him in any way likable, and the very fact that her cursed femininity had to acknowledge his allure was infuriating to her in the extreme.

“Uh . . . are you . . . you know . . . going to lead me anywhere?” he finally questioned.

With a start, Raye realized that she had ordered the man to follow her and then stood here like an idiot contemplating his eye color. Cheeks flushed, she spun around on her heel and then marched off into the Lunaran Palace, her red robes swishing angrily at her ankles. Somehow she could almost _feel_ his amused grin behind her, which only served to make her that much more upset. His boots echoed eerily down the almost deserted corridors as she led him, his armor only making the barest of noises however. A testament to both the armor’s quality and the skill of the man wearing it.

“So . . . Princess Raye, wasn’t it?” he suddenly murmured, and from a _lot_ closer than she thought he was. Raye gasped and jerked around a little to stare up at the Earth General, finding him smirking down at her almost directly behind her. Her eyes narrowed.

“If you must address me, my Lord, you may do so as Lady Mars, or Princess Mars,” she replied, then scowled as her husky voice came out far too breathless for her own peace of mind. “To use my given name would imply an undue amount of familiarity,” she continued a bit more firmly, if just to convince herself and him that she wasn’t in any way intimidated by him.

“But that _is_ your name, is it not?” he persisted, that quirky grin not fading in the slightest despite her obvious rancor. Raye frowned, and he grinned wider. Finally she conceded with an angry sigh.

“It is,” she confirmed, realizing the childish futility of refusing the man knowledge of her name. Her eyes narrowed again however as she continued with, “though that does not give you permission to use it. Remember that.” Then she spun around and began leading him again, deciding that she’d just ignore his teasing chuckles for now. If not, she might end up doing something that would most definitely get herself into trouble.

Eventually they reached the state rooms. Queen Serenity wanted no chance of accidental offense being given, and so she was affording kingly accommodations to these Generals. If Raye had her way, they’d be outside in the stables. Like hell she’d be pandering to men who were threatening her way of life, her very existence. She would fight tooth and nail to the bloody end, until all control was stripped from her and she was given no other choice but to back down. And if one of these Generals decided they wanted to try their hand at stealing away _her_ Kingdom by forcing her into their bed, best they prepare themselves for a long, drawn out fight before it was all said and done.

The Princess of Mars tossed open the inward-swinging doors, then stepped aside and crossed her arms over her breasts, head tilting back defiantly. “This is your room,” she announced coldly, “your companions should be the only other occupied rooms in this wing. Servants will come tonight to assist you in your bath and anything else you might require for the ball tonight, and afterward.”

Throughout her tirade, Lord Jadeite had stepped slightly inside and took a look around. She noted that he didn’t seem too terribly impressed, which perhaps implied that he lived in similar or even better conditions back on Earth. Something that Raye found rather hard to believe, that an Earthling could boast of living quarters as grand as those found here on Lunara—which was known throughout the galaxy for its superior architecture. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Raye cautiously probed into the surface thoughts of his mind, to glean the answer for herself.

All at once she was seized with an unimaginable amount of psychic power contained in this man. Like raw energy, it almost knocked her off her feet. As it was the Princess gasped aloud and took several steps backward, desperately trying to pull her mind free from him as well. It drew her in unwillingly, however, like a powerful vortex. Jadeite immediately turned to her at the sound of her distress, though Raye didn’t notice it, now far too absorbed in the visions that were blurring uncontrollably through her mind.

She had only meant to catch his surface thoughts, but instead his entire life whirred through her mind in the span of seconds. One memory in particular stood out from the rest. A large older man who resembled Lord Jadeite shoving her—or Jadeite rather, since she was viewing the memory through his eyes—into a closet of sorts and locking the door. She beat on it many times, too many to count, until her hands bled freely. She knew that a great and terrible evil was coming, and that the man and woman outside—his mother and father—were not strong enough to fight it alone. And he was just a boy of fourteen, too young to help, too weak to fight. That didn’t stop him from trying, throwing himself against the door again and again. Yet he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried. Helpless, he could only watch as a huge Youma monster slammed effortlessly through the last defenses before ripping the man and the woman apart.

All she could see thereafter was blood. Then he screamed. Or was it her?

The next thing she knew, Raye was opening her eyes. She was laid out on something soft, and Lord Jadeite’s worried face hovered right above hers.

“Oh Stars, good! You’re awake! What in the hell just happened to you?”

Raye quickly sat up at that, then winced at the sharp pain that lit up her brain. The girl bit her lip, pressing the heel of one hand into her forehead to try and stave off the throbbing. A large, strangely comforting hand buried itself into the small of her back then and braced her up, his fingers caressing gentle circles into her skin that she simply found too soothing to protest.

“You were talking to me one minute,” Jadeite murmured softly, “and then all of a sudden you started hyperventilating and looking like you just saw a ghost. Then you screamed and fainted. I almost didn’t catch you in time when you took a nose-dive for the floor.”

With a start, Raye then realized where she was. On his bed, with the door still standing wide open. The Princess blanched, then quickly pushed his hands away and got to her feet, ignoring her throbbing head’s protest.

“It’s nothing,” she lied blatantly.

“Nothing,” he parroted, frowning. “Screaming for no good reason and then passing out afterwards is an everyday occurrence here?”

Raye thought quickly. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth, that she had pried into his inner thoughts uninvited and had witnessed what was, no doubt, very personal memories. What if he took offense and somehow influenced the King of Earth to cancel the negotiations? It would be all her fault. Her father would kill her. Raye bit her lip, wringing her hands together.

“Look, the women in my family have a . . . a gift, so to speak. We see visions of the future,” she elaborated plainly at his highly confused expression. Stars, she had better keep things simple for this muscle-bound moron. “Oftentimes the premonitions we experience are sudden and intense. I . . . I was simply overwhelmed is all, caught off guard. It is nothing to be alarmed about.” She cleared her throat then, and turned away. “I apologize if you were unduly startled. Now, if you will excuse me, I have many preparations to make before the ball this evening.”

Raye thought she had done an admirable job with that explanation, and would now make a nice, neat getaway. Yet as she got to the doorway, he called, “yeah, see you tonight Raye. And whenever you want to go ahead and cut the bullshit and tell me what really just happened in here, you’ll know where to find me.”

The Princess of Mars blanched, but did not turn around, not even to chastise him for calling her by her given name. Instead she hurried out of the room and prayed to whomever was listening that the Warrior King didn’t try to follow up on this indiscretion. Or worse, ask her parents about it. Perhaps the “muscle-bound moron” was a sight more intelligent than she originally gave him credit for.

 

* * *

“Your room is here, the others will be in this wing as well. Servants will be sent to see to whatever needs you may have during your stay. You have but to pull the bell cord just there to summon someone.”

The irritatingly handsome man called Nephrite didn’t even bother looking into the door that Lita had just flung open. Instead he remained where he had stopped in front of her, staring down at the Jovian Princess with a half-bemused, half-irritated expression on his tanned face. Lita did her best to appear unaffected by his lazuline gaze, glaring back up at him with one brow cocked and a hand on her hip. Finally the Earthling General sighed heavily and shook his head, soft brown hair swishing behind him with the motion.

“This is _really_ killing you, to have to pretend to be civil to me, isn’t it,” he finally mused aloud. Lita took no pains in denying it.

“You don’t even know the half of it, Lord Nephrite,” she bit off through clenched teeth.

He crossed his arms then, a faintly amused smirk twisting his lips. They were very fine lips, those. Full, expressive . . . entirely kissable. Lita scowled heavier at the direction her traitorous thoughts were taking, viciously telling herself to ignore the accursed things as well as everything else she could—and _did_ —find attractive in the tall, dark-haired General from Earth. Oh, did she ever.

“Is there a reason why you should feel such animosity toward me, Princess?” he questioned pleasantly enough. “Other than the belabored obvious, I mean. You seem to be holding a personal grudge against me in particular,” the General of the West elaborated at her odd expression, “as if I’ve done something personally to offend you.”

Well, Lita couldn’t very well tell him that the reason why he made her so irritable was because he was the very first man she had ever encountered in eighteen years who made her not wish quite so hard that she’d been born the son her father had wanted. That the very sight of him made her belly flip and her heart quiver with sheer appreciation of her own femininity—meager thought it might be.

“I am _not_ going to marry you,” she suddenly blurted, as if to contradict her own thoughts, then winced and inwardly groaned. _Way to go, big mouth,_ she growled to herself. Nephrite blinked a few times, taken back by her sudden and thoughtless outburst. Then his features suddenly eased into an easy grin. Her chest constricted at the sight. Sweet Stars, that smile should be outlawed. No man had the right to look that good. Then he had to go and ruin it’s effect by speaking.

“Well that’s awfully conceited of you, don’t you think?” It was Lita’s turn to be too stunned to react as he moved past her finally and stepped into his room. He glanced over his shoulder just before the door closed. “I mean, whoever said I’d have you?”

Lita was left gaping at the closed door, mouth wide open in shock. Then she scowled, fists clenching. _How dare he?!_

She stomped away then, not trusting herself to act civilly should that arrogant, pompous jerk happen to come back out again. As much as she would like to put her fist in his face, she didn’t want to be accused of ruining the negotiations with the Earthlings. Lita did her best to ignore the kernel of hurt that had sprung to life in her chest at the Warrior King’s cruel words, telling herself viciously that it didn’t matter. Why should she care if he found her attractive or not? It wasn’t as if she wanted the General to choose her for a bride, far from it! And hadn’t she been working tirelessly for eighteen years to make herself more of a man and a warrior than the Princess she was supposed to be? Lita should be taking this as a confirmation that all of her hard work had paid off, that she had succeeded.

Yet, instead of any of these things, Lita found herself struggling with feeling rejected and very ugly and she wondered morosely if she would be able to recover from this row ere the ball began tonight. It was bad enough that she was going to be forced into a dress. Crying into her wine wouldn’t make the indignity any less embarrassing.

 

* * *

Mina led the huge warrior through the halls of the Lunaran Grand Palace, wondering idly what was running through his mind. An Empath—as her mother was—Mina was not used to being so completely shut out of someone’s emotions and feelings like this. The great hulk of a man behind her was as unreadable to her as a blank stone wall, however. Her curiosity as a result was absolutely maddening. Was he happy to be here or did the very thought of it sicken him? Was he a coconspirator in the Earth King’s plans of marriage into the Silver Alliance or was he an unwilling pawn in the grand scheme of things?

Anything was impossible to tell, as his inner emotions weren’t the only things that were indiscernible on the First General of Earth. Looking into his handsome face was like looking into a mirror, it was _that_ blank. General Malachite had done nothing more than nod politely when she had introduced herself and indicate that he follow her. Not a word in return, no twinge of recognition, not even a subtle twitch of an eyelash or a flare of a nostril. Mina frowned pensively now as she led the Warrior King of the North down the hallway toward his room.

The Princess of Venus wasn’t used to being ignored. At all. She found that she extremely disliked the sensation entirely.

Mina wasn’t a vain person, but the fact that anything claiming manhood had either stared at her or made complete fools of themselves to gain her attention and favor ever since she had fully entered womanhood could not be ignored. Even the other Warrior Kings and the King of Earth himself had cast her second glances upon first sight, if only to acknowledge her incredible beauty.

But not this one.

She let out a soft sigh now, fists clenching at her sides with the inner turmoil that she felt. Mina knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would be one of the girls chosen to wed an Earthling. Her mother had made absolutely certain that Mina understood that hard truth before they had made the journey today. Psyche had told her daughter that—if just for the fact of her beauty alone and the reputation of their people—she would be taken as a bride. That there were other factors involved only strengthened that to a surety.

Trista, Princess of Pluto, was locked away with the Time Gate, young Hotaru had barely passed the age of fourteen, and Michelle and Amara preferred women—in fact each other. That left Princess Raye of Mars, Princess Ami of Mercury, Princess Lita of Jupiter and then herself.

The Queen of Venus had then asked her daughter if she was willing to make such a sacrifice of herself. If not, Psyche was more than willing to break all ties with the Silver Alliance and close their boarders forever. They would face whatever came their way on their own.

Mina had thought it all over very carefully, and while she appreciated the sacrifice her beloved mother was willing to make on her behalf, in the end she had decided to go ahead with the plan. She wasn’t likely to find her true mate anyhow. A union for the sake of her people was just as good in her eyes. She thought now on all of the men that had been presented today, trying to decide which one she wanted. While it was true that they might have plans of their own on which princess they were to wed, when a Venusian truly _wanted_ someone . . . they had ways of ensuring that they got them. Mina had little doubt that she would nab the man she wanted to marry when the time came for it.

The one called Zoisite was attractive, she supposed. Perhaps not as masculine as she preferred, but not ugly by any means. Mina could sense that he was an analytical sort, however, extremely intelligent and rather reserved. Such a man would not suit her Kingdom at all, and would not suit herself either. He was summarily dismissed from the list.

The one called Jadeite had definite possibility. He was handsome, strong of body and seemed far less severe than his fellows. He would easily fit into Venusian culture. He was most definitely at the top of her list.

The brunette, Nephrite, was another possibility, though not quite as suited to her needs as the other. He was handsome enough, and physically sound, but she could tell that he would be a bit of a brooder, prone to frequent losses of temper. Mina wasn’t so sure that she relished that in a mate, and it was certainly not the type of man she would prefer leading her people.

And this one behind her? Mina scoffed at the thought.

True, he was by far the most physically attractive of the four, and while she might feel more of a mating heat between them than she ever had with any man before him—which Mina would admit to herself at least _was_ extremely intriguing—she would never ever choose Malachite for a consort. He was too bottled up, too in control of his emotions. He was the opposite of the spectrum from a volatile Nephrite. There seemed to be a solid iron wall keeping everything inside of him in check, which made it impossible for Mina to discern anything from the man. It was more than a sight unsettling to someone who had grown up her whole life being able to do so. No, such a man would smother her to death. He would never be able to adjust to life on Venus, either, with their care-free ways and laid back atmosphere. His was a world of strict and rigid control.

However . . . that didn’t mean she had to accept the fact that the General of the North seemed so annoyingly impervious to her charms, did it?

As she made her way down the corridor, Mina slowly began swinging her hips just a little more than was necessary. She sighed slightly as she went, innocently brushing some of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder back behind her. In the process it lifted a good portion of the stuff and revealed the fact that her robes were almost completely backless, tying over her shoulder blades with a thin bit of string and folding down nearly past her rear-end. The Princess waited, listening and feeling earnestly for any hint of agitation or arousal.

Nothing.

Scowling now—her pride and her temper pricked—Mina rashly enacted something she never had before. All Venusians had the capability of releasing certain pheromones into the air, ones that would excite anyone to the point of painful arousal. It was undetectable to most, and the person it was directed upon would know nothing of why they suddenly felt such overwhelmingly powerful urges, only that they felt them and that it was uncontrollable. The Princess didn’t really know why she did it now, especially because the potential for danger was so great. Only that his complete and utter lack of a reaction to her seemed to hurt something deep inside, something that had never before been wounded, and she didn’t like the sensation one bit.

Yet even _that_ failed to work on him, not even a twitch!

Scowling now, Mina’s fists clenched as she stomped the last few steps to his door. She swung about and glared up into his silvery gray eyes.

“Your room, my Lord,” she announced, tone curt. “Should you need anything, servants will attend you. Your companions are also being housed in this wing of the palace, should you have need of them.”

The First General dipped into a perfectly polite nodding bow of acknowledgement, then swept past her without a word and softly closed the door behind him.

Mina felt like screaming with frustration. What was he, made of stone? Even if he preferred men, he would have shown _some_ kind of reaction to her Scent. Shaking her head, the Princess of Venus retreated back down the hall in search of her own rooms. She would set her mind to ensnaring Jadeite tonight at the ball, and that’s all there was to it.

 

* * *

            Ami turned down another hallway, the tall Zoisite keeping in step with her along the way. His arms were clasped behind his back, she noted as she snuck a furtive glance in his direction, his green eyes staring ahead and seemingly lost into his own thoughts.

            Idly Ami wondered how he must feel about this whole situation. She was startled however, when he suddenly spoke, as if responding to her thoughts.

“I suppose there’s no use in beating around the bush,” he abruptly murmured, and she tensed. Zoisite stopped walking suddenly and she was forced to do the same. Ami turned to him and found herself pinioned by a calculating emerald green gaze. Something inside of herself trembled to full awareness at that stare, which seemed to assess and devour her all at once. A powerful gaze, his. “Given your planet’s ways and my intellect,” he continued, “there is no other choice for me in a bride but you,” was his announcement. Ami nodded, doing her best not to take offense at the way he’d said _no other choice,_ as he were “settling” for her, that she was somehow less than acceptable otherwise. “I can understand why you would want nothing to do with the idea of marrying me, or any of my fellows either. You must understand, though, that it is an inescapable fact at this point.”

Ami lifted her chin a fraction, doing her best to combat her natural shyness. She needed to be strong now, confident. This was the sort of thing that needed to be dealt with boldly and in a forthright manner.

“Indeed, Lord Zoisite,” she replied, voice cool and firm, sounding far more in control than she actually felt. “It is the will of the Alliance and my father that I marry, and so it will be done. If my marriage can help save valuable lives, however, then I have nothing against the union itself. My marriage was always to be arranged, you see,” she added with a tight smile. “I have gotten well used to the idea of a match based on such terms.”

His expression was grudgingly curious at that. “You want nothing of love, then?” Ami blinked, caught a little off guard by that question. She shook her head ruefully, then.

“Love is a rare thing indeed for one of my standing, my Lord. I doubt things are so very different on Earth that this would not be the case for your royalty as well. Love is for common folk who are free to throw their lives and their fortunes away on such fickle things as affection and physical desire. For nobility, it is a far more common thing to base such dealings on compatibility and common goals, things that are tangible and dependable.”

Ami inwardly blanched after she had finished, marveling at how much she had just sounded like her father. Silently she withstood his unnerving, calculating stare for a full minute before he shrugged and smiled slightly—though the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if it were false.

“As I would expect from a planet of intellectuals.” Ami frowned, wondering why she almost felt as if that were an insult. “Very well,” he continued, taking her mind off of it, “if we must be wed, what say you we set out the terms between us here and now, so there is no need for uncomfortable second-guessing and wondering in the days ahead. I will give you your space and your independence, so long as it does not interfere with what dealings I must do to ensure my Lord’s will and that of our mutual survival. I would ask only for any assistance you might be able to give me concerning your planet, your customs and your ways—as I know very little about them.”

Ami nodded, feeling very relieved at how up-front he was being.

“I will agree to those terms, so long as you agree to mine.” His eyebrows raised a little at that, no doubt surprised by her gall, though Ami had her entire Kingdom to think about right now and that gave her courage. “I will help you learn the ways and customs of my Kingdom and give you _your_ space and independence, so long as it does not interfere in the welfare of me or my people. I ask only for your fairness.” Her blue eyes suddenly turned frigid, “for you will not find us a people easily conquered.”

Very slowly he started to smile, and Ami—startled, as that was not the reaction she’d been expecting—found herself blushing a little under the tinge of respect that lit his dark eyes. “And nor will you, Princess, I begin to suspect,” he murmured softly, then sighed. “Very well, you have my word.”

Shaken, she could only nod in acceptance. They did not speak again, and Ami led the rest of the way to his room in nervous silence.


	6. Set In Motion

Jadeite entered Endymion’s room later that afternoon, where the other Generals were supposed to be convening to go over strategy before the ball tonight. The room was empty save for Jorowyn, whom he immediately spotted lounging in a chair in the corner, drinking as usual. Sounds of water splashing in an alcove to the right told Jadeite that Endymion must be partaking in a bath. He approached the Phaetonian, glad for this chance to assuage his curiosity in private.

“Hey, Jory,” he murmured, gaining Jorowyn’s attention. The Phaetonian glared angrily—no doubt because Jadeite had used the “off limits” nickname that only Zoisite got away with using unscathed. Unaffected, Jadeite continued with what had been bothering him for the past three hours, ever since he’d been left by the Princess of Mars in his room. “Do all Martians have psychic abilities?”

That got a genuine look of surprise from the moody monarch.

“Yah, they’re all of them telepathic on some level or other. They all have the ability of mind speech—which is how they communicate to each other, usually. Some have other abilities, depending on the person. I believe the women of the royal family can actually experience limited visions of the future. Why d’you ask?”

Jadeite frowned pensively, chewing at his lower lip, but shook his head. “No reason,” he muttered in answer. “The Princess mentioned it earlier,” was all he would allow. Jorowyn’s piercing gaze said that he suspected otherwise, but the former Prince didn’t press the issue. Instead he recovered his flask and took an especially long pull of the ambry liquid inside, lapsing back into his own dark thoughts, whatever they might be.

Jadeite sighed, going to stand next to one of the walls and leaning back, waiting until Endymion was out of his bath and the others showed up. He thought on all that he had learned while he did so.

Jadeite had suspected what Jorowyn had told him was the truth after the episode in his room. He had been inspecting his quarters curiously when he’d felt it. Caught off guard—not expecting her to even be capable of doing such a thing—the Princess of Mars was able to probe inside his mind and he was too late to erect the proper shields to keep her from tapping him completely. She had, and damn near ripped her own mind to shreds in the process. Jadeite’s mind was a deep and powerful well and some places were so dark and so deep that even _he_ dared not venture there.

Stunned, Jadeite had watched as a trickle of blood seeped out of her nose and her violet eyes went utterly blank, then the Princess had tipped forward and he’d barely caught her in time. Knowing immediately what had happened, Jadeite had acted quickly to repair the damage, rebuilding her pathways and saving the silly wench from a future of drooling mindlessness. He’d also wiped her memories of any knowledge of the true amount of power that he possessed, playing ignorance when she awoke. Endymion didn’t want them revealing the depths of their true abilities to the other Kingdoms just yet—said it was better the Alliance wait and wonder—to give _them_ a more solid place of strength to negotiate from.

This was a totally new and unexpected twist to things, though. An entire planet of psychics? Thus far on Earth, Jadeite had been alone in his singular ability to use the power of his mind ; telepathy, telekinesis, pyrokinesis and the ability to formulate illusions so powerful that only direct tactile disruption could disprove them. As much as the Princess of Venus was beautiful—and as much as the thought of killing someone with sex intrigued him—Jadeite suddenly began wondering if Venus was really the right place for him. Besides, Lady Raye was no slouch in the beauty department, either. Far from it. She was a strikingly gorgeous girl; with skeins of rich black hair, hot violet eyes, golden-tanned skin and the hint of a body beneath those scarlet robes that put more than a teasing thought into his brain. Jadeite fleetingly wondered just what it would be like to be married to such a creature, to name claim to her in all ways. Then the man smiled ruefully at that thought.

Jadeite had been party to much of her thoughts and memories in the process of repairing them. He now had a very intimate knowledge of Lady Raye of Mars, and he now understood far more than anyone that there would be no _claiming_ that girl. Hers was a pride a mile thick or more, stronger than steel, to go along with an arrogance and a stubbornness born of one who had very rarely had her way gainsaid. The only reason Raye had yet to be offered for by a man was because they were all so terrified of her. She was a force of nature, that one. No, it was best Jadeite leave that hornet’s nest to Nephrite.

The King of the South did his best to squelch the irrational surge of anger that erupted in his chest at the very thought of Neph touching the fiery princess, in an emotion that felt startlingly similar to jealousy. He never noticed Jorowyn suddenly turning to stare at him, green eyes narrowed and calculating.

It wasn’t long before the other three filed into the room, and Endymion came from the bathing chamber dressed in a pair of trousers and still drying his hair.

“Well, so far so good,” their Lord King announced, giving them a half-smile.

“Indeed,” Jadeite agreed, grinning. “The Princess Serenity is even more beautiful than Jorowyn gave her credit for.”

The dark-haired man frowned at that, two suspicious spots of color erupting in his cheeks. He turned away to finish getting dressed, but not before Nephrite and Zoisite saw. They pounced in for the kill as well.

“Who knew this plan would turn out to be quite so . . . advantageous?” Neph called, laughing.

“Or so arousing?” Z was quick to follow up.

“I told you marriage to Serenity’s daughter would _bring up_ some interesting results,” Jorowyn suddenly chimed in, causing the other three to collapse into gales of mirth.

“To the ‘Verse with all of you,” Endy snapped testily. “So she’s pretty. What of it? It makes no difference to me.”

“Oh, mm-hmm,” Jadeite sneered, his expression as disbelieving as the others. “So you’re telling me it wouldn’t have mattered to you at all had she been as fat as a sow and smelled worse? I’ll believe that the day I see you kiss Beryl’s ass. And as for condemning all of us, that’s a little unfair. Poor Mal hasn’t said a word.”

Jadeite turned to their silent leader at that, and his playful smile abruptly died. He frowned instead, suddenly pensive. Jadeite always made it a point not to invade other people’s thoughts, considered it a great breach of privacy. Yet without even trying, he could literally _feel_ the tension and turmoil rolling off the big man in waves. Jadeite turned to him fully.

“Is there something wrong?” he questioned softly, so as to not gain the attention of the others, who were still teasing Endymion mercilessly. Malachite started and then turned to him, as if being jarred from a daydream.

“Hmm? What? Oh, it’s nothing, Jade. Just . . . going over some last minute security problems.” Jadeite watched as Malachite shrugged one shoulder and then turned away again, arms crossing behind his back, seemingly restless.

It would all seem quite normal except that Malachite _never_ fidgeted. He was never restless. Something was very wrong. Whether it was stress or worry over their current situation or something else, Jadeite couldn’t rightly say, but it was definitely something significant to effect Malachite this way. Jadeite made a mental note to alert the others later to be on their highest guard. If Malachite was worried, then they _all_ needed to worry.

 

* * *

“So the plan tonight is to mingle with the members of the Alliance,” Endymion announced. Nephrite took a seat near-by while his Lord King finished dressing. “Do not give anything away of our resources,” he cautioned as he deftly buttoned the gold cufflinks of his snow-white shirt. “No doubt they will be asking, too. Either subtly or outright, depending on the person. Do your best to be polite, but don’t feel the need to grovel. Keep in mind that it is _they_ who need _us,_ and not the other way around. Do not let them forget that fact either. Feel free to single out your intended bride and get to know them a bit better tonight as well. This will likely be one of only a few opportunities you will be allotted to do so.”

Nephrite shifted slightly in his seat, brow furrowing. What a foreign concept, that. _Intended bride._ He hadn’t put even the slightest thought to marriage before this. With the war, there hadn’t really been time to put any serious consideration toward any female beyond a quick bedding before the next battle. Certainly nothing on the scale of forever binding himself to one woman for the rest of his life. Sure, monogamy in marriages—while intended—very rarely ever occurred, especially with ones of their standing in the social structure of things. Yet Nephrite had been raised to honor all vows he made, no matter what they were. If he vowed to love, honor and cherish one woman above all others until death they departed, then that was damn well what he would do.

It was a monumental concept, really. He idly thought of the girl he was to wed. Lady Raye of Mars. She was a pretty thing, he supposed. Long dark hair, violet eyes, nice skin, decent body. Perhaps a little too . . . haughty for his usual tastes. He really couldn’t see them getting along very well, outside of the bedroom at least. She was a passionate one, but distant. Reserved. Nephrite suspected it would take a far more patient man than himself to get past her shell of pride and vanity.

At that, Nephrite’s thoughts turned to another female and he almost smiled. The Princess of Jupiter, the one that had escorted him to his room a few hours ago. He thought her name was . . . _Lita._ Temperamental little thing, she was, and a hellacious tomboy to boot, it seemed. Nephrite would wager the Western Palace that the girl could probably fight as well as a man, too. Obviously her father hadn’t kept a firm enough reign upon her. Or, hell, what did he know? Perhaps Jovian women were all like that, lady warriors who thought nothing of challenging men so blatantly. It was a bit of a turnoff, truth be told. Or, at least it was _supposed_ to have been. Nephrite had always preferred biddable doe-eyed blondes in the past. Not tall, angry, opinionated brunettes with flashing green eyes and more venom in their lashing tongues than should have been legal.

Despite all that, Lady Lita intrigued him greatly, though Nephrite couldn’t say exactly why. She had from the moment she led him away from the transporter room, however, and took little pains to hide the fact that she seemed to loath the very ground he walked on. There was an unspoken challenge in her eyes as she glared up at him, one that Nephrite found very hard to ignore, let alone not answer in the way that everything that was male in him demanded he answer. Lita pulled at something in him, something of a more primitive level, something dark and dangerous. He had realized—standing outside of his room and staring down into her hot emerald eyes—that she seemingly without effort aroused him more than he’d ever been in his entire twenty-four years of life. Stunned to accept that he would have had her up against the door right in the middle of that hallway—and more than once—if he had been free to do so.

Nephrite sighed then, struggling to push her out of his mind and forget her. He didn’t need to be thinking about another man’s future wife in such a way. The Princess of Jupiter was not meant for him. She was to marry Malachite. Best he remember that, and learn quickly to quell this strange and unexplainable angry emotion that seemed to well in him at the very thought of his long-time friend and trusted leader even so much as touching her.

Nephrite frowned, then shook himself and struggled to pay attention to what Endymion was saying. Thus he missed it completely when Jorowyn—still seated in the back of the room—suddenly turned to stare at him with those pale jade eyes and a curiously inquisitive expression on his face.

“Tomorrow we will convene in the council of the Silver Alliance,” Endymion was saying heavily, shrugging into his long-tailed black jacket with the golden rose symbol of their Kingdom embroidered onto the left breast pocket. “There I will make known our full demands, our battle strategy and then you will each publically choose your brides. The ceremonies will be dispensed with in the days following, and then we will reconvene the council to pass the mandates that we discussed before. And then it is off to war, my friends.” Endymion gazed at each in turn, blue eyes solemn but steely with determination. “And let us pray to all the Stars in Heaven that this time we can defeat them, once and for all.”

 

* * *

Malachite hung on the edge of the ballroom, much of his features cast into shadow. The large general had his arms crossed, leaning back against the wall behind the refreshment table and doing a very good job it seemed of blending into the background.

The party was a success, he supposed. Tensions were high, but it seemed like everyone was endeavoring to get along, at least for tonight. He knew that was soon to change, once the others realized just what Endymion had in store for them all. Any sort of change was usually a painful transition, and it would be doubly so for this ancient organization. Personally he still had his own doubts, and didn’t much care for this course of action himself, but he would follow his King’s wishes without question, no matter. It just seemed too risky to him, however, too bold. Sure, he had just as much reason to hate the Silver Alliance as any of the others. Yet Malachite wouldn’t agree that forcefully taking over the whole damn thing on a technicality was the smartest way to go about getting revenge, especially considering the fact that they really had no idea what they were doing when it came to the other planets and their cultures. Hell, the only thing they had to go on were the ramblings of a drunkard.

Malachite didn’t like operating on such odds.

The First General sought out his Lord and immediately found Endymion standing off to the side, his now-fiancée standing near as well. The Princess of Lunara looked as radiantly beautiful as she had this morning, something that had made him a little uneasy. Though Endymion did a fairly good job of masking it from everyone else, he couldn’t fool his friends, and they had all seen his shocked and surprised reaction to the young Princess’ pretty face. Malachite only hoped he would be able to keep his head, and not be swayed by a pair of big blue eyes. To pull this off, Endymion was going to have to be his most cunning—and at times, heartless. There was no room for sympathy in the days ahead. Only decisive action, if they were to see this hellish war to its final end.

Malachite glanced around again, spotting Nephrite escorting the Princess of Mars to an alcove where women were granted privacy, in order to freshen up their appearance or some such thing. Neither looked too terribly pleased to be together. His eyes continued scanning the room until this time they fell on Zoisite, standing with the Princess of Mercury and her father. The Princess looked content enough, her father less so and even downright hostile toward Z, not that the latter seemed too terribly fazed by it. The Mercurian King wasn’t exactly an intimidating sort of man after all. Zoisite had mentioned earlier that he and Princess Ami had reached an agreement of a sort. At least one of them was making a smooth transition.

Next his eyes fell on Princess Lita, standing near her father. He should have been over there mingling with the two of them as well, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Which was part of the reason why he had secluded himself, in a desperate attempt to try and come to grips with what he was feeling and somehow try and quell it.

The physical embodiment of his internal struggle suddenly glided past his hiding spot—the Princess Mina of Venus—on the arm of the Warrior King of the South.

Malachite’s whole body tensed and he sucked in a sharp hiss of breath as the sight of her seemed to hit him like a fist in the gut. Sweet Stars, what was wrong with him? She was just a woman! A beautiful one, there could be no denying that, but she was still just a flesh and blood mortal female. So why did the sight and smell of her make him feel like he was going to go insane if he didn’t have her, and _right_ _now?_

It all started the moment Malachite had first laid eyes on her earlier that day. It had been subtle at first, no more than a barely acknowledged tug of desire as he covertly admired her beautiful form from out of the corner of his eye. Lush curves in all the right places encased in a golden-velvet tan, lemony blonde hair that cascaded down her back like honey pouring from a pitcher and a pair of eyes as blue as the Earthian sky he loved so much. Her manner was confident in some ways, insecure in others, an interesting mix that had unwillingly garnered his full and undivided attention. Malachite had watched her lead the way down the hall, and then all at once her walk had turned into something altogether erotic. Immediately his eyes had been glued to her hips as they swayed almost playfully. Then when she suddenly lifted her hair away to show the bare expanse of a narrow back—and nearly the top of her ass—she had let out a soft moaning sound, mewling from her throat and straight down into his groin.

And then it had really started to get to him.

Like sultry whispers, they began flitting in and out of his mind. Pouring over his consciousness like waves of water on the sand. Sensations, emotions, images more provocative than anything he’d ever before pictured—more than he had even thought himself _capable_ of picturing! Things like the depth of her cornflower blue eyes staring up into his as her delectably naked body stretched and arched beneath him like a kitten in sore need of petting. The sound of his name whimpering from her throat—needy and desperate—as he buried himself inside her wet heat as far as he could, as hard as he could, as if trying to mark her, claim her as his for all eternity. And so all at once, _half-way entranced_ became full-blown, painful arousal. Malachite had felt his whole body flush hot, his mouth go bone dry and his cock become as hard as a damned pike.

A state he had yet to return from.

It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to fall over himself like a horny teenager, then. The Princess had seemed completely oblivious and unaffected by what was happening to him, remaining as curt and abrupt as she had been before as she opened the door and showed him his room. Grateful for the means of escape, Malachite had entered and quickly shut the door behind him, praying that getting away from her would grant reprieve from these unexplainable emotions he was feeling.

No such luck.

They had been haunting him steadily ever since. Even in the meeting with Endymion earlier, he’d barely been able to force himself to pay attention to what was being said. All he could think about was her, and the arousing images that kept entering his brain uninvited. And now, in seeing her again, the need came thundering back in him tenfold. Malachite grit his teeth against it, clenching his fists until they shook. This _had_ to be some sort of magic. Nothing else could explain it. A man didn’t become _this_ aroused this easily over nothing more than a moan and a look. It just wasn’t possible. Yet what had she done, other than cast a derisive look or two in his direction? She hadn’t even acted as though she was really trying to seduce him, what was more humiliating. That he would react like this to a girl who, for all that he could tell, had no more interest in him than he was supposed to have in her was horrifying and in a way unsettling, that he seemed to have so little control of himself.

Malachite watched unseen as Princess Mina suddenly laughed at something companionable that Jadeite had said, and before he could stop himself, the First General actually growled low out of his chest as an entirely new and foreign sensation of possessive rage infused his every pore. Then he blinked, aghast. Dear Elysian, he was becoming little better than a damned beast in rut! With effort, he staved off the desire to leap over the refreshment table and throttle Jadeite into the ground for the perfectly chaste hold the man had of her dainty elbow. Instead he continued to watch, silent, as the golden-haired General offered to dance and she softly declined, claiming fatigue. Jadeite then turned suddenly at his name being called, murmured an apology to the Princess and then hurried off through the crowd to where Endymion stood with Nephrite and Zoisite.

No doubt they were wondering where he was. Malachite should have made his presence known and gone to them. Instead he remained where he was rooted to the spot he held in the shadows, right behind where Mina now stood alone. He could feel himself breaking out into a cold sweat as she sighed, suddenly. The Princess glanced at the nails of one hand almost absently, as if bored, then abruptly reached for a glass of wine. She took a sip, but a bit managed to escape the corner of her mouth. The tortured General could only stare, as if mesmerized, as she caught the small drop of red liquid with a quick swipe of her delicate pink tongue.

The images that began flitting through his mind then—of her doing other things with that little pink tongue—would’ve made _Jorowyn_ blush. He was helpless to keep the hoarse groan that suddenly ripped from his chest from finding voice.

The Princess gasped and whirled to him then, her pale blue eyes wide and startled. Desperate, somehow Malachite managed to throw up a quick mental shield to hide the gamut of insane emotions running riot in his brain. So that all she saw was a coldly detached man standing in the shadows with his arms crossed, expression faintly sneering as he glared down his nose at her. No hint of what he was feeling would show outwardly, not even a trace. He watched as she gave him a tight smile, hand fluttering slightly at her throat.

“Lord Malachite,” she acknowledged curtly. “You startled me.”

“I do apologize for that, Princess,” he returned in an equally curt and clipped tone. “Such was not my intent.”

“Hmm,” was all she would allow, glancing away again, as if she didn’t quite believe that.

Then Malachite grit his teeth as another wave of powerful sensation suddenly hit him square in the chest. His entire body trembled with the effort it took not to succumb. Sweet Stars, what was she doing to him?!

“Would you care to dance, my Lord?” she suddenly called, voice gone suspiciously sweet and sing-song. Malachite struggled with the thought of being able to put his hands on her, to be able to press all those sweet curves against him, for a moment before he was able to conquer that nearly overwhelming temptation. Put her in his arms right now and there was no telling what he would end up doing, the room full of people be damned.

“I am afraid I must decline, Lady Mina,” was his firm and cool reply as he stepped away from the wall at last and swept past her. “It seems as though my Lord Endymion is looking for me. Another time, perhaps,” he added blithely over his shoulder, not looking back. He would see what Endymion wanted, and then he would take his leave of this place in search of the nearest body of ice-cold water. It seemed that would be his only remedy for this torture.

With his back turned, Malachite missed Mina’s cool expression melt into one of extreme pique. He also never saw the girl’s mother suddenly appear at her side.

“It is a very dangerous game you play, daughter,” Psyche murmured, causing Mina to jerk again.

“Sheesh! What is it with people sneaking up on me tonight!” she snapped, flustered, doing her best to hide her startle and chagrin. She glanced into the Queen’s discerning gold eyes, noted that they were narrowed with condemnation, and then turned away again. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to play innocent. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she tried to deny in a prim tone. Her mother scoffed however, having none of that.

“Do not condescend me, Mina,” she snapped impatiently. “I can smell your Scent on him from across the room!” The Princess blushed guiltily, but did not reply. Psyche’s frown deepened with disapproval. “You are a fool Mina, for baiting that man. And so harshly.” Now it was the daughter’s turn to scoff in disbelief.

“I wouldn’t worry about that one, mother. He’s made of ice. Nothing I do affects him.” Psyche just shook her head scornfully.

“Silly girl, you have much yet to learn,” she admonished, causing Mina to frown at her. The Queen’s expression became solemn. “Just because he won’t let you see it does not mean he feels nothing. Gods, Mina, a lesser man would have _raped_ you by now!” she announced harshly, then nodded when her daughter’s face suddenly drained of color. They both turned to stare at the tall, platinum-haired giant as he stood conversing with his fellows, seemingly as calm and imperceptible as ever. “I find myself intrigued,” the Queen continued, oblivious to her daughter’s discomfort, “that such a man would have so much control, to deny your Scent for so long. I am interested to see just how long he can hold out before it completely consumes him. But know this,” Psyche suddenly announced, turning back to her now-ashen child, “when it _does_ consume him, you will have no one to thank for the consequences but yourself.”

 

* * *

“I’ve just received word from Jorowyn that the Negaverse is gathering in force on the Western hemisphere,” Endymion announced softly, “though their purpose is still as of yet unknown. I’ve sent him back to Earth to see what he can do, but I fear that they will be off-planet by the time he arrives.”

Zoisite began twisting a hank of hair around his finger—a nervous habit he’d had ever since he was a child—as he lapsed deep into thought.

“Why?” Jadeite demanded then, and the slender General sighed.

“They must be preparing for a concerted strike against the Alliance,” he answered heavily, “before our negotiations are finished and our forces combined. A last ditch effort, while we are unsuspecting. My guess would be that their target is Saturn. That Kingdom is rife with defeat, and ready to fall.” Endymion nodded.

“Your cousin said much of the same.”

“We will have to escalate our plans if we are to be able to mount a suitable counter-offensive,” Malachite commented softly, and the others nodded in silent agreement.

Before anything else could be said, however, there was a fierce commotion at the entrance to the ballroom. Almost as if rehearsed, the nobles parted aside to admit one lone man entrance. He was dressed all in black, his ninja-esque garb ripped and shredded in several places, bleeding freely from wounds too numerous to count.

_“Shima!”_

Face ashen, the young Queen of Saturn rushed past everyone and up to the middle-aged man, who had lost the ability to stand and had fallen to his knees. He lifted a bloodied face to his young ruler, his expression haunted.

“They have taken the planet, Great One,” he called, voice anguished. Gasps of horror went up throughout the room. Hotaru’s eyes were wide and stricken, a hand rising to her mouth. She seemed so small and fragile standing there in her pale silvery-lilac gown, and yet at the same time far stronger than any fourteen year old girl had the right to be. “The attack was without warning, or mercy,” Shima continued harshly. “We were no match for their fury. I have failed you, and our people.” He shook his head mournfully then, the long black topknot tail of hair that adorned his head swishing to the ground with the movement. “I beg you to take my life for this dishonor, Star That Rises,” he finally managed, head bowed and his entire posture emitting nothing but broken defeat.

Hotaru ignored the stunned looks throughout the room, drawing herself up suddenly and stiffening her spine. She hesitated only a moment before lifting her chin and giving an imperious look down upon her subject that would have made any monarch proud.

“This I cannot allow, Shima, highest of my Generals and husband of my mother’s sister.” His head jerked up, expression stunned. “Instead you will live with this dishonor as a badge upon your heart, and spend every waking moment that you yet possess bent to the task of absolving it. Only when our homeland is once again restored may you reclaim your honor and your life for your own.”

Zoisite wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw the man’s whole body start to relax, and even a hint of a relieved smile touch his face just before he bent, his forehead touching the stone floor at the tiny girl’s slipper-clad feet.

“Your will be done.”

“Now go,” Hotaru proclaimed. “See to it that any survivors are tended, and your own wounds are seen to.”

The man somehow managed to rise to his feet again, tottering only a little before managing to walk back out of the ballroom with his back stiff and gait proud once more.

Zoisite stared at the tiny girl with a whole new level of respect as she turned and glided back toward the Queen of Lunara and her anxious daughter.

“My Lady,” Endymion suddenly called out, and the hushed murmurs that had started up abruptly died once again at the sound of his strong voice. Everyone turned to him and Endy bowed slightly. “I ask that you convene the Council at once.”

“Right now?” the tall Queen of Uranus demanded in disbelief, expression fierce. “It’s the middle of the damned night!”

“We have no choice, if we are to have any hope of salvaging Saturn,” Endymion continued sternly, “preparations must be made immediately.” Ignoring the others’ protests, the young Lord King turned his solemn gaze to the Praetorian of the Silver Alliance. Her expression was, as always, unreadable. But she turned after a moment and called for silence.

“The Council of the Silver Alliance will convene in one half hour. Failure to comply with this mandate will mean forfeit,” she finished sternly before turning on her heel and ushering her daughter out of the room by the elbow.

Zoisite watched as Princess Ami’s father did much the same with her, whispering something fervently to his daughter along the way. Zoisite watched them leave, then let out a terse sigh before turning back to Endymion to await his orders. He couldn’t help but again be grateful for Princess Ami and her demeanor. She was calm, level-headed, beautiful and incredibly smart so far that he could tell. Perhaps a little cold blooded, was his only complaint. For a woman to so coolly denounce the very idea of love as trivial and pointless was more than a sight unsettling, but no less than he expected from her culture he supposed. She had defended him to her father tonight, though, stunning him. He hadn’t expected it, but it was a welcome surprise. It said to him that she had taken their agreement to heart and had now bent her entire will to the task of meeting him half-way and aiding him in all things. It was a tremendous weight off his shoulders.

Zoisite only wished he could say the same for his fellows. He knew even without Jadeite’s psychic powers that they were not a one of them finding accord with the women that had been chosen for them. Z, after meeting the girls, would not have placed them where Jorowyn had suggested.

Nephrite would have been his last choice for the temperamental Lady Raye. They were too alike in proud, moody demeanor. It would mean only trouble for the two hot-headed individuals. She needed someone patient, as stubborn as she was, someone who would not be ruffled by her ill-temper nor lay down in the face of her tantrums. And for all his short-comings, when it came right down to it Jadeite had the patience of a _rock_.

The Princess Lita was a bit more complicated to figure, though he suspected she would be best served with Nephrite as a mate. The girl had grown wild it seemed, acting more a man than a woman, something he had learned was not at all common-place on her homeworld. She would need a firm hand in a husband, a man who would not be intimidated by her but wouldn’t smother her either. Malachite was too apathetic, too distant. He would turn out to be no better than her father—apparently—letting the opinionated female do whatever she wanted, so long as it did not interfere directly with him. The Princess of Jupiter, he suspected, needed a far more hands-on type of man. Nephrite had never been one to let anything happen in his circle of influence without his direct knowledge and approval.

And the Princess Mina . . . now Zoisite frowned. He didn’t trust that one. He had heard some disturbing rumors about Venusians and their abilities here tonight. Apparently they were capable of releasing some sort of pheromone into the air that strongly affected a person’s mind. Could even potentially be used as a controlling agent. With it she could bring any one of them to their knees, unable to rise out of the cloud of lust she had created long enough to figure out what was going on until it was far too late. Any of them, at least, except Mal. If any of them had the strength of will to resist her lure, it would be the First General.

With these pairings so obvious to him, he began to wonder if Jorowyn had really meant for them to make the matches he had chosen back on Earth. While it was true that the Phaetonian prince had not had any dealings with the girls in many years, surely he would have seen at least the possibility of such complications. Or was it all yet again another one of his elaborate plots, that only _he_ knew the outcome of? Zoisite continued to twist his hair as Endymion led the way to the Council Chamber, expression thoughtful. He supposed he would just have to wait and see how this all would unfold, for better or worse, right along with the rest of them.

            Safe in the knowledge that his cousin very rarely—if ever—disappointed.


	7. Betrothal . . . of a Sort

Endymion came and sat in one of the two chairs that had been provided for the planet of Earth, the backs decorated in the rose symbol of his Kingdom. His four Warrior Kings took up positions behind him. The other monarchs slowly filed in and took their designated seats, and the Queen Serenity took her place at the raised dais on one end of the massive circular table. The Princesses were all present as well, standing behind their parents as the Queen of Lunara called for order. Princess Serenity stood at her mother’s side on the dais, gazing out at the assembled with a worried expression on her pretty face. Endymion did his best to ignore her for now, focusing himself on the important matters at hand.

“The Council of the Silver Alliance is now in session,” the Praetorian announced. “The floor is given to the Lord King of Earth.” She nodded to him. “As you will, Lord Endymion.”

Endy got to his feet, expression stern.

“I called this emergency session because what I had hoped to do in a month’s time, I must now see through in less than three days if I am to hope to salvage what is left of Saturn. In order to do this, we needs must dispense with all of this pointless political posturing as soon as possible, so that I and my Generals can leave for the field and begin preparations.”

“Leave?” the King of Neptune demanded, stunned. “You don’t mean that you will be taking the field of battle on the front lines, do you Lord Endymion?”

“It is too risky,” the Queen of Mars seconded, her soft voice genuinely concerned. “You could be killed.”

“My fate will be no different than that of my comrades,” Endymion announced resolutely. “We will need every able-bodied warrior at our disposal on the battlefield if we are to gain any sort of victory. If my fate is to die, then so be it, but I will not abandon those now suffering to share that fate alone.” There were no replies to that. Many had the good graces to look shame-faced at that subtle reproach. And many more still began gazing on the boy-king of Earth with a bit more respect than before.

“I move that we dispense with the marriage ceremonies tomorrow morning.” There were loud and immediate protests to that, but Endymion continued, raising his voice to be heard over them. “By tomorrow afternoon, I want as many troops as you can spare transported to Earth, where Jorowyn will begin overseeing their training. It will be a bit of a crash course, I am afraid, but we are out of time and out of options. I can spare no more than that. I will be taking my entire force save what must be spared for my defenses on Earth to the outer rim, and there we will begin to engage the Negaverse on Saturnite soil. Your newly trained forces will join us there in one month’s time.”

“But Saturn is completely overrun!” Shima—who had come to stand beside his Queen—suddenly protested. “If you transport _anywhere_ on the planet now, you’re a dead man. The Youma are crawling over every rock, my Lord Endymion. Not with five hundred thousand men could you do this.”

Endymion just smirked. “Trust me Shima. We will not be taking ourselves off to a slaughter, leastwise not one that ends in _our_ deaths.”

The tall Saturnite warrior considered the younger Lord King for a moment and then—after he bent and murmured something in Hotaru’s ear and she nodded her approval—he straightened and saluted him.

“I would be honored if you would allow me to accompany you to my homeland, Lord Endymion. I will be able to serve as your guide, my Lord, and _this_ able-bodied warrior will gladly give his life in your service.”

Endymion grinned, then nodded.

“Your offer is gladly accepted, and greatly appreciated Shima.” After the now-beaming General of Saturn stepped back again, Endymion turned back to the others and continued. “In order to pass the mandates that must be given to see this through and to insure that things are done in any sort of timely manner, I now move that the rule of Lunara be turned over to me, and the rule of the four planets that my Generals will be marrying into be given over to them.” Immediately a roar of protest went up. Endymion stood firm against it, expression flat. It took several minutes for Queen Serenity to regain order. When she did, she leveled him with a dark look, gray eyes sharp.

“You speak of a complete and immediate _coup_ , Endymion. A dangerous thing.”

“But necessary,” he replied curtly. “My intent is not to rob you of your Kingdoms. However I cannot trust that this body will not bog itself down in months of useless debate. I demand only that which I need to see my job done, and that is the complete and total annihilation of the Negaverse.”

“That could take years,” the King of Mercury spat. Endymion shook his head to that, expression suddenly turning catty.

“No. Not nearly so long as that. With our combined strength and resources, I give it eight months, a year at the most.” Several monarchs scoffed or outright laughed at that. Endymion just sighed at their reactions. “Very well, you leave me no choice.” He turned slightly to stare at his four Generals, then nodded. “Show them.”

As one they stepped forward, expressions grim, and the eveningwear that they had been wearing seemed to melt off their bodies—replaced by the dangerous silver plate armor that they had arrived in. The noise in the room died into a stunned hush as Zoisite came forward first and—holding each hand out in front of him—suddenly materialized a jagged green crystal spike roughly six and a half feet long between them. He twirled it a little for show. Then Nephrite stepped forward. The dark-haired General clenched both fists and they were suddenly engulfed in blackish-violet bolts of electricity. Then Zoisite suddenly tossed up his spear of sorts, and at the same time Nephrite extended his fists toward it, several bolts arcing off his arms and shooting into the crystal shard, until the thing began generating the energy on its own.

Instead of falling back down, the spike became strangely suspended mid-air. The reason for this was soon revealed as Jadeite abruptly hovered up at least five feet off the ground, his cape fluttering slightly in his wake. With a faint narrowing of his eyes, the spike suddenly burst into blue flames. And then everyone gasped or cried out as a frightful black-furred Youma abruptly appeared right in the center of the enormous table. Some fell back fearfully as the thing roared, black ichor dripping sickeningly from its toothy maw, while others remained frozen in shock and horror. Jadeite—a slight grimace of concentration on his face—suddenly used his telekinesis to hurl the energized spike of crystal at the creature. At that same instant, Malachite abruptly leapt forward and drew the enormous great sword across his back in one fluid motion. It erupted in painful white light and then both attacks hit at the same time.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Malachite remained in a slight crouch where he’d landed on the large table, the tip of his sword—the blade of which everyone could now see was actually made of glittering diamond—slightly embedded into the marble. Nephrite and Zoisite both stood on either side of Endymion now, slightly behind and flanking him while Jadeite remained hovering above them, arms crossed.

The council sat motionless for several moments, with awe and perhaps a little bit of fear as they stared at them with widened eyes. It seemed they had grossly underestimated these Earthlings yet again. Such power had not been seen since the Elder Days, when the galaxy was still young and rife with war.

“Now that was only a bit of illusion, provided by Jadeite here,” Endymion announced, “but rest assured that they are every bit as effective when fighting for real.”

Queen Serenity gripped the arms of her throne, then turned to the rulers of Venus, Mercury, Mars and Jupiter respectively, eyes questioning. She got an affirmative from them all, if a bit grudging. Yet how could they refuse? Endymion had just made it painfully clear that—should the mood strike him—he could simply order his Generals to take the rule of their Kingdoms by force. All of this “political posturing”—as he had put it—was just that, a polite formality. None of them were anywhere near strong enough to fight such power. Therefore the Queen slowly nodded. “Very well, Endymion,” she bit out. “Your terms are met. Speak now of the Princesses you have chosen to wed.”

Another formality, as at this point everyone had pretty much guessed which girl the Generals were going to choose. Endymion nodded, though, and turned to Malachite.

“Lord Malachite, Warrior King of the North and First General of the Kingdom of Elysian, choose now your bride and your Kingdom.”

Everyone watched in silence as the pale-haired giant slowly rose from his crouch. He yanked his glittering blade from the table along the way, causing a bit of marble to skitter loose out across the surface. All at once Endymion frowned slightly, suddenly noticing how the man was clutching at the hilt of his blade and that his breathing was harsh and heavy despite the fact that he had done nothing for which he should be winded.

 _Something is wrong, Endy,_ Jadeite suddenly admonished into his mind, an instant before Malachite suddenly swung around and leveled the tip of his sword—not at the Princess of Jupiter—but at the suddenly wide-eyed and stricken Princess of Venus.

Endymion felt his jaw drop.

“I, Malachite, Warrior King of the North and First General of the Kingdom of Elysian do hereby choose Lady Mina of the Venusian Kingdom to take to wife,” he called out, deep voice strong. Endymion watched, dumbfounded, as the warrior then spun on his heel—cape flaring back with a flourish—and stepped off the table. He resheathed his diamond sword with a faint screech, then went to take his place back at his Lord’s side. As he neared, Endymion suddenly planted a fist in his shoulder guard—fingers burying into his cloak—and jerked him close. His face thrust forward, expression thunderous.

“What in the name of all that is holy are you _doing?”_ he demanded in an angry hiss, so as to not be overheard by the others. Malachite refused to return his stare, instead gazing forward at the wall behind them.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he murmured in a pained tone, voice rough. “I had no choice.”

“Is there a problem, Lord Endymion?” Queen Serenity suddenly called. Endymion released Malachite and took a brief moment to breathe deeply, recollecting his thoughts and his composure. Then he allowed Mal to pass and instead gave the council members a tight smile.

“No, of course not.” He cleared his throat, then, “my First General has made his choice. Is that decision honored by this council?”

All heads turned to Psyche. Mina gripped her mother’s arm and whispered something frantically into her ear, expression almost wildly fearful. The mother gave one hard look at her daughter, who bit her lip and then fell back again, a desolate look to her now. Then the Queen of Venus turned to Endymion and nodded.

“Your choice is honored, King of Earth.” Endymion sighed.

“Lord Zoisite, Warrior King of the East and Second General of the Kingdom of Elysian, choose now your bride and your Kingdom.”

Zoisite stepped forward and turned to the King of Mercury. _Good,_ he thought wearily. _At least one damned thing about this whole fiasco is going to go according to plan._

“I, Zoisite, Warrior King of the East and Second General of the Kingdom of Elysian do hereby choose Princess Ami of the Mercurian Kingdom to take to wife.” The blue-haired girl nodded.

“Your choice is honored,” she murmured for her father, who at the moment looked too furious to speak.

Nephrite suddenly looked up at Jade, and Endymion got the feeling that the latter was communicating in his silent fashion between them. They came to an agreement, then Jadeite suddenly turned to him.

_Announce me next, my Lord. Neph thinks he’ll have a bit of trouble with his._

Endymion started to protest, then nearly threw up his hands in defeat.

“Lord Jadeite, Warrior King of the South and Fourth General of the Kingdom of Elysian, choose now your bride and your Kingdom.”

The golden-haired man drifted forward, then abruptly dropped out of the air and landed on his booted feet with a small thud, right in front of the Martian royalty. He locked eyes if not horns with the scowling Princess.

“I, Jadeite, Warrior King of the South and Fourth General of the Kingdom of Elysian do hereby choose Lady Raye of the Martian Kingdom to take to wife.”

Raye’s eyes had narrowed, her face flushing. “And why should I accept you?” she demanded, ignoring her father’s sharp look of reprimand. Jadeite only continued to grin.

 _Because I know you a hell of a lot better than you think I do, my little flaming ember,_ he murmured directly into her mind, causing her to gasp hard and nearly fall back a step, violet eyes now wide and staring.

“H-how . . . how can you . . . .”

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises,” he assured her aloud, chuckling. He suddenly reached up and tucked a hank of black hair back behind her ear while she was still too stupefied to protest. The small gesture spoke volumes to her parents, however, who exchanged looks between them before nodding.

“Your choice is honored, Lord Jadeite,” Lord Romulus announced in his booming voice. Raye started finally at that and turned to glare at her father, but the damage had been done.

“Lord Nephrite, Warrior King of the West and Third General of the Kingdom of Elysian, choose now your bride and your Kingdom.”

Nephrite stepped forward, an almost predatory grin on his face as he turned to the Princess of Jupiter. Her eyes were wide, and she glanced first at her father—who shook his head helplessly—then she suddenly scowled fiercely. Endymion almost groaned aloud. Nephrite was known to have an almost uncanny ability to predict the way people would react to situations, though he could wish at times like these that he was wrong.

“I, Nephrite, Warrior King of the West and Third General of the Kingdom of Elysian do hereby choose Lady Lita of the Jovian Kingdom to take to wife.”

“Like _hell_ you will!” she hissed in answer.

“Lita!” the Queen Serenity snapped, expression outraged. The tall girl ignored her.

“I am enacting my rights, father! Bear witness!” The King of Jupiter turned to glare at her, then he sighed in a very aggrieved sort of way.

“It is custom on our planet that if any two men wishes the right to take the same woman for a mate, they must fight for her ere the joining takes place,” he explained heavily. “It seems Lita is demanding the right to fight for herself.”

“If you do not honor the ruling of this council, your entire planet will be _forfeit—,”_ the Queen began, furious, but was halted as Nephrite suddenly raised his hand. He had never taken his eyes off of the Princess throughout it all, who was crouched now in a fighting stance.

“I accept her challenge,” he announced, then rolled one shoulder back. His armor melted away at that, leaving him in a pair of black leather breeches and a billowing white tunic, his fighting bracers still clasped around his forearms.

Endymion just nodded when the Praetorian looked to him, then moved with the others to one side of the room as the two combatants faced off.

Nephrite had taken a slightly crouched fighting stance as well and, after winking insolently at the girl, motioned arrogantly for her to come forward. Immediately the Jovian Princess launched herself at him. She had changed into a pair of leather pants and her dark green over-tunic sometime between the ball and now, so that there was nothing to block her range of movement. She’d also apparently managed to grab a few extra accessories as well, revealed to them as she suddenly reached into the small of her back and then jerked two gleaming silver daggers out of their hidden sheaths. Others in the room gasped as they realized the Princess wasn’t meaning for submission, but was actually attempting to wound at least if not outright kill. Her father yelled out a harsh warning to her, one she didn’t seem to heed. Instead Lita let loose a barrage of deadly attacks onto the Earthian General, who managed to block every one of them with his bracers, sending a spray of sparks flying out around them both.

Nephrite continued to block her for several precious minutes, dancing the girl around the room. Endymion realized then what his General was up to, and could only shake his head in wonderment. He was purposefully wearing her out. Rather than actually fight back and potentially hurt the girl, Nephrite was allowing her to vent all the anger and rage she was harboring on him. It was a damned dangerous way to go about it though, and he winced as Neph just managed to deflect a vicious thrust meant for his groin. Yet effective nonetheless. Endymion wondered how long it would take the Princess to realize that Nephrite wasn’t fighting back, or using anything near to his full potential.

Not long, apparently. After Lita tried for a complicated and—admittedly—impressive double-slashing maneuver and he fended her off easily, she pounced back and stared at him with wary eyes, her breathing fast and shallow.

“You’re toying with me,” she snapped, wiping at the sweat that had started to glisten on her brow with a sleeved forearm before tensing again. Nephrite merely stood, seemingly defenseless with both arms hanging down at his sides, and shrugged.

“Nonsense.”

“I’m not a fool!” she snapped. “You could have finished me off a dozen times already. Why do you hesitate?”

“Unlike you, dear Lita, my intent is not to gut you like a fish.”

Almost faster than most could follow, Nephrite suddenly darted in and—before she could react—he had knocked both of her daggers free and wrenched her arms high above her head by the wrist in one of his. He yanked her back and against him, and she let out a startled cry. Then he bent down to her ear on one side and smiled.

“Yield.”

There was a brief struggle in her tempestuous green eyes, then she finally slumped. She hung her head, defeated.

“Your choice is honored,” she mumbled. He grinned.

“Good.”

And then before anyone could say or do anything else, Lita suddenly jerked and near-crushed Nephrite’s foot with a vicious back-step, forcing him to loose her with a startled yelp. She quickly spun to him, giving his pained face a fierce glare. “If you _ever_ toy with me like that again, I really _will_ gut you like a fish!”

Then she stomped over to where her father was sighing and shaking his head.

The Queen Serenity cleared her throat, blinking, then sighed herself. “This session is adjourned until tomorrow afternoon. Word will be sent in the morning of the wedding preparations.”

And then one by one the rulers of the Alliance filed out of the council chamber.

 

* * *

Somewhere in the deep void of the Negaverse, Beryl cowered before the entity sitting upon the massive throne. Wrought of twisted black metal and the skulls of the countless thousands he had slain, it was a truly horrific thing to behold. Much like the creature itself.

 _“You worthless bitch!”_ he snarled now, and Beryl lashed around on the ground in abject agony as the lances of negative energy speared through her body. “I gave you one simple task, and you cannot even manage to do that! How _dare_ you defy me!”

“Please!” she whimpered after he had paused in his assault. “My Lord!” She slowly crawled forward, gown torn and bleeding from several wounds, until she knelt at his booted feet. “I have only ever wanted to serve you, my Lord,” she continued to grovel. The black-armored man sat for a moment, motionless, then abruptly reached out and grabbed a fist-full of her long scarlet hair. Beryl screeched loudly as he used this hold to jerk her head back painfully, until she was forced to stare up directly into his face.

It was both beautiful and horrifying, arresting and disturbing. Skeins of snow white hair fell down around his armored frame, pooling the obsidian black floor around them. Eyes as red as the blood he drew forth from countless victims glared down at her from underneath slashing brows. His skin was pale, as white as his hair, which contrasted sharply to the inky black plate armor that encased his tall and muscular frame.

Beryl waited, not daring to breathe, as the powerful god-like entity considered her for a moment. Then his lips quirked slightly in a sardonic grin.

“Methinks you best serve me on your knees,” he announced. He reached down with his free hand and tore open the front of his pants. “Serve me well, and I might decide to keep you alive a little longer.” He used the hold he had in her hair to jerk her face forward, but Beryl was too pleased with not being killed to care much. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d done this.

While the sorceress got to work, the man turned to his right and motioned. An especially tall, scaled Youma stepped forward from the shadows and bowed, casting only a slight glance to the thin red-haired woman between his lord’s bent knees.

“Your will, my Lord,” it hissed out.

“The Alliance will be joining forces with Earth soon,” the man announced, his powerful voice steady and seemingly not caring a wit of what Beryl was doing to him. “I cannot allow them to guess our plans. Send emissaries to the Dark Moon, Nemesis.” Chaos grinned then, revealing two sharp fangs. “I think it time we procure a few allies of our own.”


	8. Martial Weddings

Serenity stood in front of the 3-section vanity mirror, staring at her reflection as it in turn stared back at her. She was dressed in one of her best white and pink gowns, the gossamer fabric floating around her dainty frame like a wisp of cloud. It was sleeveless, the bodice fitting snug around her torso and hips and then fanning out in a multi-layered chiffon silk skirt that dragged the floor by several feet behind her. The top edge of the bodice—which wound around her body beneath her arms and then angled low to the middle of her back—was rimmed in an inch of pink satin. A matching faux belt of the same color encircled her tiny waist, with a tiny bow in the front that was held in place by a diamond-encrusted buckle. The layers of the skirt alternated between white and pink, the second and fourth layers in a shade of pale rose that matched the belt. Her slender arms were covered by white silk gloves that went all the way to her bicep, a stripe of the pink ribbon around her wrists. A string of diamond chips wound around her throat like a choker, the excess hanging down the back of her neck just a bit. A delicate but stately silver and diamond tiara—slightly smaller and less intricate than her mother’s—was pinned into her hair and glittered almost daintily in the morning sunlight.

Currently her companion Diana was pulling her long blonde hair up into their usual bun tails, holding them in place by matching strings encrusted with diamonds and pearls. Serenity bit her lip slightly as the changeling put the last finishing touches on her appearance, wringing her hands nervously in front of her belly.

“Diana?” she suddenly murmured, causing the silver-haired girl to pause in her work and give her a curious glance in the mirror’s reflection. “Did you . . . did you know about what really happened . . . o-on Earth?” Her companion winced, then shrugged.

“I had heard my father and mother speaking of it a few years ago.” Serenity scowled.

“So I was the only one who was kept in the dark.”

The young Princess had confronted her mother last night about what Endymion had said, and the uncomfortable discussion that followed had revealed a few ugly truths about the galaxy, as well as the people who lived in it. Now she found herself filled with several conflicting emotions, and she wasn’t sure just which side was up anymore. When faced with her horror, her mother had tried to reason that there were complicated political issues involved that she just didn’t understand. The younger Serenity had shook her head sadly, countering that—no matter what politics were involved—when it came down to it, the Alliance had still sat back and did nothing while thousands of innocent people were slaughtered. They had come to an uncomfortable impasse then, and finally her mother had left, leaving Serenity with her own troubled thoughts. Troubled thoughts that still had not abated.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

The changeling smirked. “You know it’s not my place to answer that,” she responded lightly. Serenity rolled her eyes and puffed out an annoyed—and nervous—sigh. Diana chuckled at that, then gently pulled her Princess’s blonde hair from over her bare shoulders and let the curly tails fall down to her knees. “If it _was_ my place,” she then continued softly, “I’d tell you that your mother wouldn’t have put you in this situation if she didn’t think you would be able to handle it.”

“But marriage, Di!” Serenity protested, blue eyes wide. Perhaps it was only pre-wedding jitters, but with the thing suddenly only moments away, Serenity was being swamped with overwhelming feelings of unease and doubt. “I-I just met him yesterday,” she continued in a stricken tone. “I barely even know him, yet I’m about to become his wife!”

“You would have had an arranged marriage eventually, Sere,” Diana countered gently. “And I doubt you would have gotten to know any of the others any better.” Serenity had to concede that point with another sigh. She continued to fidget however, and finally Diana reached out and grabbed her hands. Serenity turned to her and the Mauian squeezed her fingers, red eyes soft. “What does your heart tell you, Sere?”

Serenity paused for a telling moment, then slowly started to relax. “That this _is_ the right thing,” she confided. Then she smiled a little, shoulders straightening. “You’re right. My marriage will save the lives of hundreds, maybe even thousands. I couldn’t ask for a better match.”

 _Except maybe for love,_ a soft, sad voice whispered inside her heart, but the girl did her best to ignore it.

“Of course, the fact that the man is ridiculously handsome is no never mind?” her companion suddenly teased, which won her a blush and a smack in the arm.

“I just got a bit of cold feet there for a moment, I guess.”

Diana giggled, then made a face. “I would too, if I had had to endure what you just did this morning.”

At that Serenity blanched. “Don’t remind me,” she groaned, turning away from the mirror at last and stepping off the small cushioned stool and into the soft pink satin slippers that had been set nearby.

Early that morning, as Diana was busy getting things ready and Serenity was partaking in a very light breakfast, her mother had come into her chambers to share a private moment with her before the chaos began. Putting last night’s unpleasant discussion behind them, in that time the highly uncomfortable monarch did her best to fulfill a mother’s duty and prepare her daughter for what she should expect tonight in her marriage bed. All three of the females had been blushing and squirming by the end of the ordeal. Serenity was—naturally—very curious about what really took place between a man and a woman during intimacy, but discussing such things with her mother was just _too weird._ Especially when her mother seemed just as embarrassed about it as she was. Finally Serenity had assured her mother that she knew all she needed to and—visibly relieved—the elder Queen didn’t press the issue and left again shortly after to make sure all the preparations were continuing smoothly. In truth—from her mother’s complicated and half-unsaid descriptions—the Princess knew no more than she had started with, though she would rather continue to live on in complete ignorance than have to endure one more moment of that uncomfortable torture.

There was a light rap on the door then and—after Serenity called for whomever it was to enter—it opened to reveal Diana’s father, Artemis. The pale-haired man smiled widely at seeing her.

“You look absolutely radiant, Sere,” he murmured, awed, then after another moment more of staring the Mauian seemed to remember himself and bowed respectfully. “It is time, Princess. Please follow me.” Serenity came forward at that and gently touched his arm. When he rose up to gaze at her questioningly, she gave him a gentle, sad smile.

“Please Artemis, no formalities today. You’ve been like a father to me in place of my own all my life,” she continued, fighting the urge for tears. “I would be very honored if you would continue to do so today, of all days.”

Behind them, Diana clasped her hands in front of her with a wide smile, red eyes gleaming with her own unshed tears. Artemis had to blink a few times himself and clear his throat gruffly before he was able to nod an affirmative. He extended an elbow, which she gratefully put her arm through, and then the tall Mauian led her from her chambers, Diana trailing behind.

In due time they arrived into the large antechamber just outside of the Grand Hall. The other girls were already waiting on the arms of their escorts.

            Princess Ami stood on the arm of her father, King Hector. She wore a pale blue satin gown with wide straps over her pale shoulders and a square-cut décolleté that was modestly high. The waist was cinched in just below her breasts, and there the skirt split wide to reveal an even paler blue—nearly white—chiffon underskirt. Both brushed the ground at her feet, but had no lengthy train. To accent her dress Ami had on a delicate silver necklace with a large sapphire pendant, several bracelets on her wrists and three matching earrings in each ear. Out of all of them, Ami appeared to be the least upset—though she wasn’t completely at ease by any means.

Princess Lita stood next to her tall and imposing father, King Theseus, her expression mutinous with only the slightest trace of unease and fear in her flashing green eyes. She wore a two-piece dress made of what looked to be the softest forest-green leather. The top was done in a corset style that melded to her frame, with a heart-shaped neckline and no sleeves. Either side beneath her breasts was ribbed in pale pink, with tiny vines and roses stitched in the front in the same color. The skirt was also narrow and form-fitting, tightest at her waist and thighs and then slowly fanning out at her feet. The skirt had stitching that matched the bodice, which wound around the hem and then arced up on one side nearly to her hip. The only jewelry she wore were the rose quartz earrings in her ears. Her auburn hair was pulled up into its usual tail by a delicate silver clasp, the curls falling down to her bare shoulder-blades behind her.

Princess Mina stood on the arm of some male Venusian official who was—as they all were—devastatingly attractive. He looked to be no older than Mina, however, and slightly uncomfortable it seemed in his role of escort. The Princess’ face was drawn and pale, blue eyes distant. Despite that Mina looked radiantly beautiful in a sleeveless pale yellow, crimped satin gown that pooled the floor at her bare feet. The diaphanous and billowing material was cinched around her tiny frame haphazardly and seemingly held in place by a wide gold ribbon that wrapped around her body. It began just above her breasts and then—crisscrossing here or there—wound its way on a downward spiral to tie behind her at her thighs. Following Venusian etiquette, she wore nothing else, no shoes on her feet and no other jewelry or ornamentation on her body. Her blonde hair was allowed to tumble freely down to her calves, loose and thick.

And finally Princess Raye stood on the arm of her father, King Romulus, her expression scowling and rebellious. She wore—not a gown—but the traditional garb of her desert-dwelling people. The top was a thin bit of scarlet red silk that was loose and almost poufy except where it was drawn in with banding of a darker shade of red, which made up the low-scooped scalloped neckline, the edges of the short capped sleeves and then the hem that stopped just below her generous breasts. All of her arms and much of her tanned, flat belly were left bare. The skirt was an interesting affair altogether. The waist was the same tight bit of dark red material that fit almost like a belt, following the curve of her hips and coming to a slight downward point in front. And then from that, hundreds of triangular shaped pieces of red and pale violet silk fell to her ankles. Each piece was nearly transparent on its own, though being layered as it was kept it from indecency. As she moved, the pieces of cloth would shift and part to show glimpses of her long legs and the delicate red slippers she wore on her feet. The only other ornament she wore was the thin gold chain that wound across her brow with the five gold disks, which proclaimed her royal status. Her sable black hair was allowed to tumble otherwise loose and wanton down to the backs of her thighs.

Artemis led Serenity into the chamber and after Diana gave her a quick hug for support, she hurried through the door. The brief glimpse inside before it shut again showed the enormous hall nearly stuffed to the brim with people. Serenity took in a deep breath to try and calm her frazzled nerves, fighting the urge to rub her suddenly damp palms down the side of her delicate skirts.

The girls said not a word to one another as they waited, the tension in the small antechamber being too thick for anyone to break comfortably.

And then the music playing within changed chords, and the double doors were thrown wide by the servants in place to do so. Artemis began forward, gently tugging Serenity into motion. She plastered a soft smile on her face to hide her nervousness as she began down the long trek that would lead to the end of the Hall. The other princesses and their escorts fell into step behind her; first Mina, then Ami, then Lita and finally Raye at the end.

Faces swam before her vision, and Serenity didn’t think she recognized a single person in the oppressive crowd. Where had all these people come from? _We’re at war, aren’t we?_ she thought to herself somewhat desperately, the cold lump of fear settling in her belly. _Shouldn’t all these people be out_ doing _something other than staring at me?_

Then she caught sight of her mother, dressed in one of her most regal silver gowns, seated in the front row. The younger Serenity was stunned to see real tears glistening in her mother’s gray eyes as the woman watched her pass. Her mother _never_ showed such emotion in public. The Queen gave her wide-eyed daughter a wobbly smile and a nod, and then she was behind her.

The seemingly limitless hall finally came to an abrupt end, spilling out into a large half-circular clearing where five men and a young boy stood before a large alter of sorts. Lord King Endymion stood in the center, with Lord Malachite and Lord Nephrite to one side and then Lord Zoisite and Lord Jadeite off to the other.

The younger boy was High Priest Helios, Earth’s highest ranking healer, she had been told. It was somewhat amazing given the fact that he was no older than young Hotaru, yet he looked amazingly dignified in his ceremonial robes, and there was a certain elegant and wise air about him that kept him from looking as though he were merely a boy playing dress-up in his father’s clothes. Helios stood slightly in back of the line of men waiting to receive them, his hands folded into his sleeves and his expression serene.

Reflecting the more militaristic Earth, the four Generals were all dressed in ceremonial silver half-armor over white leather, each decorated in their respective colors and etched with symbols that no doubt had something to do with their sacred posts—the Four Corners of Earth. Serenity had the impression that they must be in the traditional garb of their station, and each man looked more than handsome in it.

Endymion himself wore similar half-armor, though his was black plating over black leather, detailed exquisitely in gold with a large rose over the left side of his chest. The entire ensemble molded like a second-skin over his powerful frame, and Serenity felt her breath snagging in her throat when she met those fathomless midnight-blue eyes. Really, it should have been a crime to look that good. Especially when one’s personality was so . . . closed.

Artemis continued leading her forward, until Serenity stood directly in front of the young Lord King and was forced to tilt her head all the way back to look the tall man in the eye. Standing toe-to-toe, the top of her head barely reached the line of his shoulders, her eye level was staring into the center of his chest. The other girls fanned out from behind her and were placed before their respective husbands-to-be, and then the escorts stepped back.

Each of the men placed the hand of their intended into the crook of their arms—some more willing than others—and then turned as one to face Helios. Serenity’s fingers clenched nervously into the soft leather of Endymion’s undergarment, swallowing loudly. Her mother had told her that—in deference to the men of Earth—their marriage ceremony would be reflecting Earthian customs. This would involve a benediction from Helios, followed by verbal binding vows spoken between them, and then an exchange of rings—to be worn on her left ring finger.

After they were all facing him and ready, Helios raised his arms and the vast hall slowly fell into a hush.

“Dear friends, new and old,” he began, smiling slightly, his chestnut eyes warm and soft. “We are gathered here today for a very momentous event. Not only for the joining of men and women in the bonds of marriage, but also the joining of all good and free peoples in our galaxy under one banner. To fight for freedom, for life, for our very survival in this universe. In the past years I have seen many deaths,” he announced softly, and Serenity could sense a very real and very great pain in him. “I have guided many souls of my brethren and friends to the hereafter, far too many. It is in _their_ memory that I now raise my voice and my heart in song and in hope, that today we take the first much needed steps toward a brighter future. Filled with—not death and despair—but love and unity. For _everyone.”_

Serenity suddenly felt near tears. She had the distinct impression that Helios was speaking, not out of duty, but straight from the heart. The moment was broken however by a sneering voice that suddenly called, “Oh c’mon Heely, cut the poetic crap and get down to business. We’re missing the after party.”

Serenity and everyone else swung around to pin Jorowyn with a glare. He just grinned back, unrepentant. That is until Diana—who was seated behind him—suddenly reached out and smacked the poorly-mannered Prince right in the back of the head. He jerked, then whirled and snarled something at the Mauian. Serenity was too far away to hear what they said, but after a moment or two of heated debate, Jorowyn swung back forward. He crossed his arms over his chest with a mutinous look and a few grumbled words beneath his breath while the silver-haired changeling also sat back in her own seat with a smug expression on her face.

When they turned back to Helios, they saw the High Priest giving the Phaetonian his own dark look. Serenity glanced at Endymion when the Lord King muttered through clenched teeth and beneath his breath so that only she and those directly near could hear him, “I swear to every Star in the sky, when this is over I’m going to personally _wring is scrawny neck!”_

Jadeite, on the far end, chuckled softly before murmuring back, “You’ll have to catch him first, Endy.”

“Yeah,” Zoisite followed. “Good luck with that.”

Helios cleared his throat loudly to end the murmur of whispers and conversation that had started around the Great Hall, then continued with his now-damaged ceremony. The High Priest went on for several more minutes in his benediction, and now Serenity had the impression that the boy was drawing it out even longer just to spite the Phaetonian Prince. And then Helios finally turned to her, and Serenity realized with a start that she was going to have to go first. Her fingers clenched reflexively around Endymion’s arm.

“Princess Serenity,” Helios murmured, “please repeat after me.” She nodded, and he began. She repeated her vows dutifully.

“I, Serenity, Princess of the Kingdom of Lunara, do hereby swear to love, honor and cherish Endymion, Lord King of Earth, above all others until death we part.” Helios nodded and smiled warmly when she had finished. He reached down and withdrew the white cloth that had been draped across the large alter before him, revealing that on it rested five pairs of matching rings. The High Priest reached down and then handed her a thick gold band with vines and roses etched along the sides. Serenity and Endymion were told to face each other—which they did—and then the Lord King raised his left hand. Serenity took it as she was told to, then she bit her lip, trying to remember the words that her mother had drilled into her this morning.

With trembling fingers, she raised the ring and touched it to Endymion’s pointer finger. “With . . . with this ring, I thee wed,” she murmured, her voice whisper-soft and probably not able to be heard throughout the huge chamber. Though the one that counted most could hear her clearly. She moved the ring to touch his middle finger, “and with my body, I thee honor.” Then she moved the ring to his third finger, which she then carefully pushed the heavy band onto it, where it fit perfectly. She finished her vows softly with, “and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

Then Serenity released his hand and let out a shaky sigh of relief, now that her biggest part in this was over. Endymion clenched his fist, as if experimenting with the new weight on his hand, then turned and took the ring that Helios handed him. He took her left hand in his and repeated the ring exchange as she had done for him. Serenity stared at the ring while he did so, a little awed by it. Both by what it symbolized as well as the band itself. It looked to be made of hundreds of entwining golden vines and leaves, and then at the top a delicate rose unfurled. In the center of it rested a circular diamond nearly as large as her thumbnail. When he finally slipped the cool metal onto her ring finger, she gasped as she felt the thing automatically resize to fit her. So they were magic rings, then.

Serenity was lost into her own thoughts, musing over all that was happening, while Helios repeated the exchanging of vows and rings with the other four couples. And then all of a sudden the words, “you may kiss your bride,” broke through her inner musings. Serenity gasped a little, eyes widening, but by then it was too late to react. Endymion had cupped her cheek in one hand and tilted her head back, and then his warm mouth was sealing over her own.

Her eyes squeezed shut, hands lifting a little to brace against the cool metal of his chest plate, a slight noise of surprise escaping her throat. Endymion’s sealing kiss was gentle, but insistent, his lips rubbing against hers with almost a promise of things to come and leaving tingling sparks of sensation in their wake. His thumb brushed across the curve of her cheek before he finally straightened again a moment later. Serenity had to work at it to open her eyes, shocked and even a little spellbound by the new and foreign—almost flighty feeling of burning anticipation that had completely taken over her body. He merely stared down at her bemused expression, a knowing glint in his dark eyes that immediately put the blush back in her cheeks.

After a moment, Serenity suddenly became aware of the strained and uncomfortable silence that reigned in the room, and became aware that something wasn’t right. She glanced around to discover that everyone else was staring to her left with varied expressions of shock and disbelief on their faces. When she turned around to see what everyone else was gaping at, her own eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Lord Jadeite and the Martian Princess were still locked into what looked to be a _very_ steamy embrace, the kind where tongues were involved and everything. They were utterly silent too, as if completely absorbed into what they were doing and totally unaware of the fact that hundreds of people were watching them do it. Lady Raye had her hands clenched onto the shoulder plates of his armor, but it didn’t look like she was fighting him off so much as holding him in place. And Jadeite’s hands were gripping her hips through her skirt scarves with a white-knuckled death grip, and he didn’t seem apt to letting her go any time soon.

After another solid minute of their passionate embrace, Zoisite—at his side—made a noise of disgust.

“Oh for Stars’ sake, man, at least let the girl come up for air!”

At the sound of his voice, the both of them abruptly tore apart, looking dazed and faintly disoriented, breathing fast and shallow. Lady Raye, after glancing around and realizing what she had been doing, sucked in a strangled gasp of air and her face turned a painful, mortified scarlet. Even Lord Jadeite seemed out of sorts, a hint of ruddy color stealing onto the curve of his cheeks as he brushed a nervous hand back through his unruly blonde curls.

Nephrite wasn’t going to let an opportunity to tease his fellow pass him by, and leaned in to mutter, “a moment longer, Jade, and we would’ve been forced to cover the Priest’s eyes,” then laughed heartily at the other man’s dark, embarrassed glare.

After everyone was given a moment to recover from the shocking display, the ruling monarchs of the five Kingdoms—Lunara, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Mars—came forward. Her mother came to stand before Endymion, while Hector came to stand before Lord Zoisite, Queen Psyche before Lord Malachite, King Theseus before Lord Nephrite and finally King Romulus before a still-blushing Lord Jadeite, who only got more uncomfortable under the man’s steely, blank-faced stare.

Under Helios’ direction, the rule of Lunara, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Mars was officially turned over to the men from Earth. Queen Serenity took the silver circlet from Luna—who stood at her side—and carefully fit it over Endymion’s brow. The head piece fit perfectly beside the gold one already in place there, enough so it actually appeared as one crown. As soon as she moved her hands away, there was a bright flash of light and then the crescent moon marking—the symbol of Lunara—etched into the chest plate of his armor in silver, behind the golden rose. After Psyche clasped the wide gold band around Malachite’s bicep that proclaimed him the King of Venus, the symbol of that planet etched into the left breastplate of his armor. And once Theseus had fastened a large gold torque around Neprhite’s neck, the symbol of Jupiter blazoned proudly onto the front of his armor. Hector reached into his pocket and withdrew a slender piece of crystal, etched in runes and complicated machinery—the keycard that controlled Mercury’s central computer system, their very way of life—and after he reluctantly handed the powerful item over to Zoisite, the symbol of Mercury was forever etched into his breastplate as well.

Finally Romulus reached down and then slowly withdrew the jeweled, ceremonial curved dagger that was sheathed on his hip. Jadeite eyed the weapon nervously as the Martian leader hesitated, then finally turned the blade back on himself and presented the symbol of his Kingdom’s rule to his daughter’s husband. Jadeite took it with a visible sigh of relief and a slight slump of his shoulders, to which Romulus smirked slightly, unrepentant. As soon as his fingers closed over the hilt, the planetary symbol of Mars burned to life across his chest.

In the next instant Endymion suddenly whirled toward the now politely applauding audience.

_“Jorowyn!”_

“He’s already gone, my Lord,” Nephrite murmured, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “You missed him again.”


	9. Wedding Nights - Serenity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content abounds! If that's not your thing, feel free to skim this and the next four chapters. If it IS your thing, then by all means, enjoy the sexy-times. ;)

The rest of the day seemed to pass by in a blur for Serenity. After the ceremony, Endymion called another emergency meeting where he and his former Generals steamrolled through a few new laws and regulations. With the double vote of Lunara and then the votes of Earth, Venus, Mercury, Mars and Jupiter all unanimously in favor of everything that Endymion proposed, the kingdoms of Uranus, Neptune and Saturn stopped even bothering to offer an opinion on them. Instead they sat back with varying expressions of bemusement and/or irritation as the Earthlings dominated the proceedings.

One of the more surprising mandates that Endymion had passed was to create a new position within the hierarchy of Lunara, that of a High Chancellor—someone who had the ability to essentially run the day-to-day tasks of the Kingdom while he himself was busy either at war or on his own homeworld. Though not an autonomous ruler—as they still had to run any major decision made through him before approval—the position was near to his own in standing. Directly after the position was created, Endymion named the first holder of it—her mother, the former Queen.

The Lunaran female could only stare, blinking slightly with surprise. The rest of the occupants inside the council chamber fared no better. They had all expected the Earthlings to take full and unfair advantage of their new thrust into power, to abuse it and place themselves and their own Kingdom at greater standing. Instead the young Praetorian—surprising them all yet again—was going out of his way to make sure the transition of power went as painlessly as possible.

The other mandates they passed were all militaristic in nature, ensuring that things would run smoothly and without difficulty while Endymion and the other four Kings were out in the field. They posted men who would stand in charge of the planets while they were away as well, to oversee their defenses and make sure their warriors were in top form in case of a surprise offensive. Lord Alexandrite—Lord Malachite’s uncle and First Lieutenant—would be assuming command of the Venusian Kingdom in his nephew’s absence. Lady Galena, Lord Jadeite’s First, would be taking charge of the Martian Kingdom. Lord Sylvanite would be taking over Mercury for his commander, Lord Zoisite. And lastly, Lord Wolframite would be taking over on Jupiter for Lord Nephrite while he was away. They also passed several provisions in the event of any of their deaths, making certain the rule of the planets would return to the rightful succession.

Afterward the Council was adjourned, and they all had dinner in a small reception of sorts. Serenity didn’t eat much, not trusting the crazy fluttering butterflies in her stomach. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t seem terribly festive either. Many of the girls sat quietly or—in Raye and Lita’s cases—stubbornly, unable or unwilling to partake in the feast. As the night drew on, even Ami began to show signs of nervous apprehension. Until finally the girls were all bade to retire in order to prepare themselves. To Serenity, the procession suddenly felt more like they were marching off to the gallows instead of their marriage beds, as not a one of them looked anything other than nervous or outright frightened. The men stayed behind for now, talking low amongst themselves.

Serenity found herself ushered into the room that Endymion had been given instead of her own, and blinked in surprise when she found Diana there as well as a lot of her things, which had apparently been moved today while she was gone. The Mauian helped her dress for bed, the girl seeming nearly as nervous as Serenity was herself, which really did nothing for her own nerves. The new Queen was taken out of her wedding finery and then dressed into a nightgown of a sort—though this one was much more fancy and . . . grown up than the ones she was used to. It was made of soft satin, clinging to her curves, hinting at much but revealing little. Her long hair was unbound as well so that—after Diana ushered her into the huge bed—the silvery blonde tresses cascaded down and blanketed the wall of pillows behind her.

Then Diana left, leaving Serenity alone. The nervous girl stared around herself as she waited for Endymion—her husband—to join her, trying to discern anything she could from the stranger who now controlled every aspect of her life, as well as that of her entire Kingdom. Unfortunately there wasn’t much to go by, being as he’d only slept in here once. Save maybe the fact that he wasn’t much for clutter, everything neat and tidy. That made her wince, as she tended to be the exact opposite. Hopefully that wouldn’t get her into trouble.

And then the door suddenly opened, and Serenity nearly swallowed her tongue with nerves as the solemn, handsome Endymion slowly entered. The sound of the door closing behind him sounded so final somehow, causing her to flinch slightly. For some reason she felt herself start to blush a little as he halted in the entryway, staring at her. He stared for so long and so hard in fact that she began to worry that she had erred in some way.

“Is . . . is there something wrong?” she questioned, when she could stand the oppressive silence no longer. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be in the bed yet. Serenity blanched, then pushed the covers she’d drawn over her legs aside and made to get up. “I’m sorry,” she fumbled, “D-Diana said that I should wait in the bed, I—,”

“No,” he suddenly called, taking a step toward her and lifting a forestalling hand. “You’re fine. You can . . . please, sit back down.” Serenity blinked a little, then slowly eased herself back against the pillows.

Endymion cleared his throat then and turned away slightly, running a hand back through his hair before he suddenly started removing his armor. He bent his head to the task, tendrils of his inky hair falling forward into his eyes. She watched him for a moment, bemused. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost swear he seemed as nervous as she was. Which didn’t make any sense. What would _he_ have to be nervous about? Surely this wouldn’t be _his_ first time . . . was it?

Serenity was so startled by that possibility that she blurted, “are _you_ a virgin?”

His head jerked up and he gaped at her in disbelief for a full minute before his cheeks turned faintly ruddy. “No!” he denied vehemently, yanking off the chest plate and setting it aside. “Of course not!”

She felt her own cheeks burn with mortification, not daring to believe she’d actually asked him that. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled softly. “I didn’t mean to . . . Y-you just seemed—,” she forced herself to stop rambling when he scowled and then wrenched off the leathery coat from his shoulders, revealing the soft white shirt beneath it, his movements becoming jerky and obviously upset. She’d managed to make him angry, somehow. The nervous Princess bit her lip, fingers twisting into the covers, struggling to come up with something to say that would soothe him again. The last thing she wanted him to be right now was angry, and especially at her.

She hesitated for another minute, then softly, “I’m sorry for what happened to you, my Lord.” That made him pause, turning to her. She bowed her head though, hair curtaining the sides of her face as she stared at her hands instead. “I asked my mother about what you had said the other day,” she revealed, tone sad and maybe even a touch bitter. “I didn’t know anything of what the Council had done when your war started . . . I have been kept very sheltered, it would seem.” She felt her eyes tear a little, then blew out a shuddering breath. “But I am sorry we didn’t help, and that so many people were hurt because of it.”

“Unfortunately, all the sorries in the world cannot change what was done,” was his gruff response, causing her to straighten and look at him again. Endymion’s face was a riot of emotions now, anger, sadness, regret. “Nor bring back the lives of those that were lost. And there were many, I assure you. Men, women, children. The Youma were not discriminate in their killing.” He sighed then, and shook his head, a small, somewhat bitter smile coming to his lips. “But it is not your place to apologize to me. None of it was your doing. You were all of, what, five years old when the war started? And you may use my given name, at least when we are alone,” he suddenly declared then. “A wife shouldn’t address her husband as ‘my Lord.’”

Serenity smiled a little at that and nodded, tentative, glad for the small peace offering he’d given her. And then the King of two planets finished unbuttoning his shirt, parting it and pulling it free from down off his arms, and suddenly Serenity forgot how to breathe altogether.

As sheltered as she’d been, she’d never really seen a half-naked man before, certainly not one this close, and _definitely_ not one this good-looking. Ropes of chiseled muscle made up his tanned torso, from the powerful biceps of his arms to the defined pecs of his chest and the ridges of his faintly concave abdomen. Any doubts she might have still had that Endymion was a warrior as well as a King were firmly put to rest at the sight.

Endymion noticed her gaping expression and smirked a little, an entirely new sort of glint coming into his blue eyes, one that was hot and strangely predatory. He slowly approached the bed. “Are _you_ a virgin, little one?” he questioned, tone softly teasing.

She felt her face get hotter, if that were possible. Too nervous to really take offense, she merely sputtered, “y-yes, of course.” Then he was kneeling on the bed beside her and Serenity gulped, clutching the covers at her chin in a death grip and staring wide-eyed at that bare chest now only inches away. She shivered when he gently ran his fingers through the hair at the side of her face.

“And has anyone explained to you just what is about to happen?” That made her wince, remembering this morning’s disaster.

“I . . . m-my mother told me a few things this morning, my Lord, but she wasn’t very specific.”

His hand buried deep into the hair at the back of her head, cupping it, forcing her to lift up to him. Serenity was a little startled to find his face so near hers, only inches apart. “Endymion,” he corrected in a soft rumble, nearing further, until she could feel the gentle waft of his breath against her now-trembling lips.

“Endy— _mmph,”_ she started to parrot dutifully, but then he was kissing her again and the rest of his name was lost into his mouth.

Like before, Endymion’s kisses immediately made her feel anxious and restless for some reason, as if she were about to crawl right out of her own skin. She let out a soft murmur, eyes shut tight, fingers still locked into the blankets. This time he didn’t stop at a gentle rubbing however. His head tilted to the side, the pressure increasing dangerously, and then she let out a startled gasp when she felt his tongue suddenly tease her lips. Endymion lifted away slightly, his free hand caressing down the curve of her back and leaving tingles of fire in its wake. “Open your mouth for me, little one,” he growled then, nuzzling her cheek. Confused at why he’d want that, Serenity didn’t even think to deny him, obediently parting her lips just a fraction. And then he was kissing her again, and suddenly his tongue actually speared deep into her own mouth, his muscled arm tightening hard around her back and bringing her full-flush up against his chest.

Serenity had thought that this type of kissing would be a little gross, as the idea of someone putting their tongue in her mouth hadn’t sounded at all appealing. Yet for some reason, when Endymion did it, it caused her whole body to go haywire. Her skin burned, her breasts ached, the place between her thighs began to throb with an unfamiliar yearning and she found herself letting out a strange sort of moaning whimper because of it. He did it again and again, pausing in between to nip at her lips or dip down suddenly to kiss or gently bite at the suddenly very-sensitive lobes of her ears. Serenity started to lose herself then, intoxicated with these new sensations she was feeling. She almost didn’t even realize it when her arms raised, her hands sliding up the muscled wall of his chest to cling to his broad shoulders. His skin was strangely hot to the touch, almost seeming to burn her fingertips, causing them to unconsciously curl a little.

At her shy reciprocation, Endymion seemed to become even more inflamed. He let out a soft groan of his own as he kissed and licked a hot, wet path down the column of her throat, then down onto the front of her chest until the neckline of her gown stopped him.

Serenity felt him start to undo the ribbons that held it together, and thought somewhere in the back of her mind that she should probably be embarrassed that he was undressing her, and knew that she _would_ be if she could just stop for a moment and think straight. But Endymion wasn’t giving her a chance to regain her bearings, his powerful hands rubbing and caressing wherever they could reach in between undoing her gown, turning her brain to absolute jelly. All she could do was arch a little helplessly in his arms and moan her encouragement.

He pulled the covers aside, then he was parting her nightgown wide and then slipping it down off her shoulders to pool instead at her waist. Serenity did manage to work up a little chagrin, then, when he sat back to stare at what he’d uncovered. His face was dark, now, with an emotion she didn’t recognize as he stared down at her naked breasts. Embarrassed, she started to lift her arms to cover herself, but he caught them before she could manage it. Instead he used his hold to gently push her until she was laying down on her back. Endymion braced himself on one arm beside her, towering over her and the young Queen couldn’t help but feel incredibly small in that moment, almost dominated in a way . . . yet strangely feminine as well. He bent, and she gasped again at the sensation of skin on skin contact.

“Don’t ever hide from me, Serenity,” he whispered gruffly against her cheek just before he started kissing her again, and she felt something inside of herself melt at that hoarse plea. She didn’t fight him again when he moved back down, though she was a little nervous as to what he was going to do, as her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about this part. One of his hands suddenly glided over her breast though, then cupped it’s weight, and Serenity let out a strangled murmur at the electrified sensation that that action evoked. Her nipple tightened immediately at his touch, burning with a foreign feeling that she didn’t quite understand. She wasn’t even sure yet if it was a good or a bad thing, until his touches became more focused, and then he suddenly bent and his mouth closed over the other.

Serenity’s fingers fisted tight into his hair of their own will, her back bowing a little, gasping out a soft cry. Her mother certainly hadn’t mentioned _anything_ about this!

The ache between her legs was almost unbearable now, giving her the urge to clench them together and squirm in the sheets. Her whole body felt hot, flushed, as he continued to lavish attention to her breasts, feeling desperate for something but having no idea what that something was. That is until one of his hands suddenly dipped down beneath the hem of her gown and slipped between her legs to touch her there. Startled, Serenity tensed up with a gasp, eyes flying wide.

“Endy,” she whimpered, torn between confused desire and uneasy fear, instinctively trying to draw away from him. Endymion merely leaned down to nuzzle the line of her jaw, soft but insistent.

“Shh,” he comforted, voice rough. “I won’t hurt you, sweeting. Trust me.”

When she relaxed a fraction, he gently forced her thighs apart again and then his hand traced her womanhood, revealing a startling amount of slickness there that she hadn’t noticed before, the presence of which confused her. For a terrifying moment she thought she might have accidentally started her woman’s time. Yet he seemed somehow pleased with the discovery instead of upset, growling a low and appreciative sort of sound in her ear before his long fingers completely parted her folds and found the tiny bundle of nerves that made her center. Serenity let out a startled moan, then, fingers clawing into his shoulders.

He started to slowly rub her there, over and over, and suddenly she couldn’t think straight at all, could barely breathe. Instead she buried her face in his neck, eyes squeezed shut, moaning and panting, writhing in abject frustration, suddenly feeling as if her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She also had the nearly uncontrollable urge to buck her hips, and only just barely managed to save herself the embarrassing indignity. Her legs lifted up though, knees parting wide out of pure instinct, her nightgown falling completely away—though she was too far-gone to the pleasure she was feeling now to really even notice it.

Endymion continued to stroke her for a little while longer, slow and steady, exhorting just the right amount of pressure to drive her wild. Then he suddenly buried his longest finger deep into her heat, the ball of his thumb pressing into the most sensitive spot at the same time. When he continued to move, Serenity groaned desperately, her hips starting to shift ever so slightly against the thrusting motions of his hand. She was suddenly so close to something, something monumental, something amazing, if he would only just keep doing what he was doing for just a little longer . . . .

And then all of the tension suddenly broke inside, and Serenity’s whole body drew up tighter than a bow string as waves of powerful euphoria thundered through her bloodstream. She somewhat managed to muffle her loud cry into his throat, fingers unintentionally clawing into the bare skin of his neck and arm. Endymion merely continued to stroke her throughout it, keeping Serenity on a razor’s edge until the very last spasms had left her. As soon as they did, her whole frame slumped, suddenly feeling wrung out and utterly exhausted.

For a moment all she could do was sit there and breathe heavily, completely stupefied. Endymion nibbled kisses across her chest and neck, suddenly seeming very proud of himself. She supposed he deserved it.

“Did you enjoy that?” he purred, and Serenity was still so flummoxed she didn’t even think to deny it, nodding her head shakily. And then all at once she suddenly realized her positioning—completely nude with her legs splayed shamelessly wide—and remembered the actions she’d just done and felt her face turn a mortified red. She gasped, her legs snapping back together before confused tears suddenly pricked her eyes.

“Does that make me wanton?” she warbled.

 _“What?”_ Endymion blurted, startled, lifting up to blink down at her in disbelief. Then all at once he suddenly smiled. A full, real smile—not hesitant in any way—his blue eyes suddenly soft and tender. Serenity was so startled by that, she almost forgot to be horrified by her own embarrassing lustiness of a moment ago.

“Enjoying what I did to you just now does not make you a wanton,” he assured softly, fingers brushing back through her long hair. “It only means you’ll be able to enjoy this part of being married, for which I am very glad.”

“You are?” she questioned tentatively, voice very small with shy uncertainty. He gave a pained chuckle at that.

“Aye, _very_ glad. And if you weren’t such an innocent, you’d be able to tell just how much,” he added in a cryptic, almost pained mutter, shifting almost uncomfortably beside her.

Yet before Serenity had a chance to question him on it, Endymion was suddenly kissing her again. His kisses were harder now, almost desperate, which seemed to set off a similar chord in her. Enough so that when he finally shirked his pants and leaned over her, she didn’t even think to tense up or become afraid. Drunk on the passion he made her feel—the throbbing ache having long since flared back to life in her womb—she spread her thighs for him willingly when he nudged her to do so.

And then something far larger than his finger was slipping inside, yet amazingly it didn’t really hurt. Just a slight pinch, a feeling of tightness, unused muscles being stretched, yet nothing like the horrible pain her mother had uncomfortably described this morning. Serenity wasn’t able to hold onto that thought for long, too absorbed in the pleasant sensation of fullness—a strange sort of rightness—as Endymion slowly buried himself deep inside and fully claimed her as his. The feeling of him doing so was simply . . . _electric_ , it was the only word she could think of to describe it.

He groaned a little himself, a thin sheen of sweat having broken out along his tanned skin. “Stars, you’re so tight,” he hissed, looking almost pained. Serenity blinked, suddenly fearful.

“Is that bad?” That made him laugh again, though there was a harsh grate to it now.

“No,” he gasped, “it’s not bad. It’s very, _very_ good.”

Serenity let out a long and reedy moan then as Endymion suddenly pulled nearly completely out of her body and then thrust back inside until his hip-bones collided with hers again. He repeated this, slowly increasing his pace with every thrust, until he was pistoning in and out in a steady, mind-blowing rhythm. Serenity was a writhing, moaning mass beneath him then, clutching at the bed sheets, the pillows, the blanket, his arms, his hair—whatever she could reach. The pleasure was starting to pool through her blood and center in the depths of her loins again as well as Endymion continued to thrust and then he started to tease her with his fingers, reaching down between their bodies to find her center again.

“Feels good _,_ doesn’t it,” he suddenly growled, never breaking in his rhythm. She cried out his name in answer, breathing heavily. She was so close . . . _so close_ . . . just a little harder . . . “You want to come for me again, sweetling?” he then demanded.

“Yes!” she cried, past the point of caring about what she was saying or admitting. “Oh Stars, yes,” she continued, nails biting into his forearms and her legs suddenly lifting to curl around his waist, fighting instinctively to get herself closer, harder. “Endymion, _please!”_

He chuckled at that—the sound strangely dark—then murmured, “as you wish, but I want to hear you scream for me this time.”

Serenity tensed as he began thrusting into her hard and fast, and then she suddenly felt weightless. _Oh my . . . ._

She had the strong suspicions she would’ve screamed out her second release whether he asked her to or not, it was that strong. She was honestly surprised she didn’t snap her own spine with how hard her muscles clenched, arching completely off the bed, her whole body shuddering with the force of it. Endymion crooned his wicked encouragement throughout, and then he was tensing up and letting out a loud moan of pleasure himself. His whole big body locked up above her, hips thrusting almost jerkily as he finally came as well.

And then he nearly collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

“Stars, I think you’ve killed me,” he moaned, which made her giggle for some strange reason.

Serenity would’ve thought she would have felt embarrassed or uncomfortable, yet she felt a strange sort of closeness to him now . . . intimate, in a way. She blushed only a little when he roused himself enough to clean them both up with a damp cloth a moment later, and then he was laying back down in the bed and pulling the covers up over them both.

“What now?” she questioned sleepily, already fighting off a yawn.

“Now you go to sleep, little Queen,” he announced softly, almost playful.

That sounded like an excellent idea. Endymion didn’t protest when she snuggled up to his side, curling a slender arm around his waist and pillowing her head on his wide chest. Instead Serenity felt one of his hands start to brush a soothing caress through her hair, down her back, further lulling her into fast-approaching slumber.

“Goodnight, Endy,” she whispered, already half-gone. She missed the way he stared down at her then, eyes sad, and was completely asleep and therefore oblivious by the time he bent, pressing a soft kiss to her brow—over the golden half-moon mark in its center.

“Goodnight, sweetling.”

Endymion lay there for several hours, holding his new wife and watching the adorably innocent creature sleep. A gamut of emotions passed through him while he did so. Dazed shock and a healthy dose of awe and humility, first off. From the very first moment he’d stared down into Serenity’s pale wintery blue eyes that first day, he’d somehow known on an instinctual level that she would be dangerous to him and his peace of mind, his very way of life. It was something about her, something more than just her very pretty face and incredibly desirable body, something deep inside her that seemed to call to something equally deep in him.

It was one thing to marry the girl and to take command of her Kingdom, thereby ensuring the survival and the strength of his own. It was a far, far different—and far more dangerous thing—to fall in love with her.

That thought immediately brought unease, anger, desperate denial . . . then bitter resignation. He might have tried to deny it before, but not after tonight. Not after the sweet way she’d surrendered herself to him, so unawares of her own innate sensuality, of her ability to steal his wits and his breath, to make him trip and fall over himself like an untried boy of twelve having his first woman. Endymion had to accept now that he could very easily learn to love this pretty little female in his arms.

And that realization absolutely terrified him.

Scowling now, Endymion carefully eased himself out from underneath her and stood. He had to turn back at her soft murmur of protest. For a moment he thought he’d woken her, yet Serenity’s exhausted sleep was too deep for that it seemed. She merely rolled over and cuddled his pillow instead, though her pretty face pinched briefly into a soft moue of disgruntlement before she slipped completely back into her dreams.

The Lord King turned away resolutely then, stepping out of the main room and into an antechamber instead, where he’d had his battle armor already laid out and prepared for him. There he slowly began to dress, expression hardening as each piece was methodically strapped over his leathers. He couldn’t let himself love her. He couldn’t risk that kind of weakness. Not ever again. Endymion had buried his heart the day he buried his father, and he had sworn to himself that dreary afternoon that he’d never let himself be hurt like that again. If there was one lesson that this war had taught him well, it was that those you loved were eventually stripped from you, and he just couldn’t afford to feel that crippling pain again. He was a King first, a man second. His Kingdom had to come before anything else. It _had_ to.

Fully armored, Endymion slid his sword into its scabbard on his hip with a final metallic hiss, pinned his cloak in place on his shoulder guards and then exited the antechamber. He hesitated in the main bedroom again, his eyes unwillingly falling on her sleeping form. The Lord King allowed himself to stare at his pretty wife for just a moment, as if committing the scene—of her curled naked into the sheets rumpled from their passion, her silvery blonde hair a riot of untamed curls around her shoulders and back, her face so soft and achingly beautiful in repose—to memory, then he suddenly turned on his heel and swept out of the room entirely.

Off to war, and to hopefully bury this tentative feeling that was starting to bloom to life deep in the heart he wasn’t supposed to have anymore.


	10. Wedding Nights - Mina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moar smut! You've been warned/anticipated.

Mina tried to calm her nerves as she stood alone in the massive bedchamber that wasn’t hers, yet fighting a losing battle it seemed, for the bone deep tremors and the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t abate. Now the Venusian Queen, she blew out a trembling breath, feeling tears prick her eyes but stubbornly refusing to let them fall. She missed her mother desperately, yet Psyche had refused to give her any comfort in this, and left back for their homeworld shortly after the ceremony.

She had held her daughter’s face in her hands earlier that morning, golden eyes sad but resolute in the face of Mina’s several attempts to beg and plead her way out of what was coming. “I have loved you more than anything your whole life, my beauty. Perhaps a little too much, I see now. I would never have thought you capable of something so petty and vain as this.”

Her mother’s sad disappointment in her was perhaps what hurt her the most, and was the hardest burden to bear. Mina _had_ cried, then, bitterly.

“I’m so sorry, mama,” she’d sobbed softly. “I-I didn’t know. I didn’t mean it!” She’d felt like a child then, carrying on so, but hadn’t cared at that moment. She was too afraid of the consequences her rash actions had made and now, much like a child, absolutely terrified of facing them.

“But you _did,_ Mina,” her mother corrected sternly. “You knew full well what you were doing when you released your Scent on him. Not once, but _twice._ Now it is a small wonder the man has not collapsed completely under the strength of it. Being of my bloodline, yours is a very powerful lure, stronger than most of our kind.”

“But the pheromone will make him crazed,” Mina had voiced then, her biggest fear, “and I’ve not yet taken a lover before.” She hesitated, then in a softer, tiny whisper, “he’ll hurt me, mama.”

The former Queen came the closest she had to breaking at that terrified admission, yet somehow she managed to hold firm. “You’ve made your bed, child,” she’d announced softly, hoarsely. “Now _you_ must live with it.”

Psyche was unaffected by any more tears or pleadings. Eventually Mina had forced herself to stop. She’d gone robotically through the meager preparations then. According to Venusian culture one was supposed to be nude for a Joining ceremony, but in deference to the stigmas of the other races her mother had dressed her in a simple yellow and gold sheath instead, and nothing else. Then her cousin Eros had come to escort her down the aisle. Filled with morose self-pity and fear, Mina didn’t remember much of the antechamber, nor walking down the long aisle packed with strangers.

She remembered seeing _him_ for the first time however, remembered it clearly. Malachite had stood tall and proud, a giant next to his comrades, an intimidating wall of stone dressed in his formal armor. So handsome, yet so very cold. His face was emotionless, silvery eyes flat and almost dead as he’d taken her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm—painfully polite, perfectly impersonal. The tears had tried to threaten then, too, but she’d fought them off somehow.

Her voice had sounded hollow in her own ears as Mina softly repeated the vows the High Priest had asked of her. The ring she’d put on his finger had been a somewhat plain band of silvery gold, but the one he’d put on her was a surprisingly delicate, pretty band etched with what appeared to be snowflakes, a large pale-blue gem sitting atop it. She’d had only a moment to marvel at it before the Priest announced them officially wed, then gave the great hulk at her side permission to kiss her.

Mina had tensed up then, terrified, unsure what to expect. Yet he’d merely bent, and barely brushed his mouth against hers before standing straight again and turning away. Impersonal, unemotional, as if she were being kissed by a bloodless machine. As if her very touch sickened him. A bitter draught for one such as she to swallow, and one that only made her heart further shrivel in her chest.

So now here she stood, waiting for him to come to her. Waiting for him to claim her. Mina wrapped her arms around herself, chilled. She now bitterly regretted her choice not to take a lover before now. Unlike most others, her culture was very open to the idea of casual sex. Venusians saw lovemaking as a pleasurable past-time that was foolish to deny yourself. Once someone reached the age of sixteen they were free to take lovers however they chose—so long as both parties were willing and precautions were taken to prevent conception, as having children was left to Joined pairs. Yet Mina never had the desire to take things so far with any man or woman that she’d met before, foolishly holding out for something more than just a feeling of physical desire. Childishly waiting for love. So she was still unbreached at eighteen, something almost unheard of on her homeworld. And now that breaching was going to become a whole lot more painful and brutal than it needed to have been.

Back on Venus, her first time would have been gentle and highly pleasurable. She would’ve eventually chosen an older man, one who knew what he was doing, knew how to bring her into full womanhood and introduce her to the many joys of lovemaking in the most skillful ways possible. Yet now her first time was going to be with a man who hated her, yet one who would no doubt be driven near-mad with the lust she’d forced on him.

Malachite had been fighting with her pheromone for so long now that it would be a wonder if he didn’t just tear the wrap from her body, throw her to the ground and take her like a beast. What was more, a female Venusian’s pheromone also enhanced a man’s stamina as well as his sex drive. Drunk on it, the powerful warrior would be driven to take her many times tonight before the stimulant was exorcised completely from his system.

It would be a small wonder indeed if she even managed to survive till morning.

Mina jerked as the door suddenly opened. She whirled to it, eyes wide, feeling her heart sink somewhere into the soles of her feet with fear. Malachite—now her husband and the King of her Kingdom—slowly entered it, then shut the portal firmly behind him. He wore the white leather outfit piped in gold, though the half-armor that he’d worn over it was now gone, removed before he’d come to her apparently. His face was still as unreadable as before, and anything he might be feeling was carefully hidden from her, both outwardly and inwardly. Malachite stood at the door for several minutes, just staring at her, expression indiscrutable, and Mina felt like a bug underneath that chilly stare.

And then all at once he spoke up with, “I suppose you think you’re terribly clever.”

Mina blinked, taken off-guard with that. “I’m sorry?” she questioned somewhat hesitantly, then her eyes widened as that mask finally cracked to allow a bitter sneer to suddenly twist his lips.

“Do not continue to play me for a fool, madam,” he snapped. “You’re sadly mistaken if you think you will be able to use that damned pheromone of yours to turn me into a mindless simpleton, who you can then manipulate to your every little whim.” Mina gasped, and he chuckled at her surprise, though there was no humor to it. Malachite pushed himself off the door then and slowly approached her. “My comrade Zoisite informed me this evening after you’d left just what you Venusian women are capable of doing to the unsuspecting male mind. Yet you will not find me so easily controlled, my dear.”

“I’m not—I-I wasn’t trying to—I never meant—,” she started to sputter, but he cut her off with a sharp motion of his hand. She jerked a little, stunned when his face finally reflected a real, honest emotion. Unfortunately it was anger. His cheeks flushed with it, pale brows deeply furrowed over eyes that flashed like silvery orbs of ice.

 _“Save it!”_ he roared. “I don’t want to listen to any more of your lies!”

Cold and dispassionate, Malachite was an intimidating man. Angry, he was downright terrifying. Mina suddenly found herself wishing for the return of the other version, yet she knew that that was now a distant dream. Her pheromone was starting to take its toll, taking away his ability to think clearly, or control his emotions. At this point she could only hope he didn’t resort to beating her.

Therefore Mina didn’t try to defend herself again, knowing her words weren’t going to have any effect on him other than to possibly infuriate him more. Instead she drew herself up as proudly as she could and lifted her chin, a spark of defiance lighting her blue eyes. That made his own narrow a fraction.

“Haughty and defiant to the bitter end, I see.” Then his lips twisted into an unholy smirk, one that made her shiver involuntarily. “We will see just how long you can manage to keep it after I’m done with you.” _That_ sort of statement really didn’t go very far in calming her nerves. Nor did his next one. “Strip.”

She blinked, not sure if she’d heard him right through the roaring in her ears. _“What?”_ she squeaked somewhat inelegantly.

“Get undressed,” he clarified dryly, then added in a sneer, “I’ve heard how you Venusians view sex and nudity. I doubt very seriously that this is going to be a foreign concept for you.”

In fact it was, though she wouldn’t be telling _him_ that. Normally Mina had no qualms about her own nudity, or anyone else’s for that matter. The naked form had never really fazed her before, male or female. Nudity was seen as perfectly natural to her people, who frequently walked around in various states of undress due to the sweltering heat of their homeworld. Yet with the way he had just ordered her to strip, and the contemptuous look in his eyes while he did so, he made the idea suddenly seem dirty and humiliating. Which was, no doubt, his very intent. Apparently Malachite was setting out to make this whole ordeal as degrading and hurtful as he could, a subtle revenge for trying to manipulate him it seemed.

And he was succeeding beautifully.

Mina gasped a little, her lips trembling as her eyes started to water, both with futile anger and hurt. He was heartless to either of them. “I told you to disrobe, wife,” he growled, the term coming off his lips almost as an insult. “Are you going to defy your husband? Let alone your King?”

She swallowed hard, knowing full well that he spoke the truth. She had no right to defy him now, in any capacity. Therefore with trembling fingers, the tears slipping loose out of her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks, Mina reached behind her and slowly pulled the gold ribbon loose. The bow had been the only thing holding it all together, so that when the ribbon slid free, so did the yellow silk wrap. Both slowly slithered down and pooled at her feet, leaving the blonde female completely bare, as she’d worn nothing underneath it. Her fists clenched into white-knuckled balls then, arms held perfectly straight at her sides. She waited for whatever would come next, viciously determined now not to let him see any more of her fear or pain.

Yet all the anger was suddenly gone from his face. Mina watched him stare at her for the longest time, his expression almost unwillingly riveted. The young Queen tensed when he took a step toward her, then another, moving almost as if drawn, until he stood so close she could almost feel the heat from his big body. When he raised a hand she flinched a little, unsure of what to expect, yet he merely moved to catch a tendril of her long hair. Mina blinked, confused, as Malachite very slowly drew that soft hank of hair between his fingers.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Mina just stared up at him, too afraid to move or speak. His expression suddenly darkened, but not with anger. This time it was with something that was more like pain. “Gods save me, no woman should be as beautiful as you,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

And then before she could even think to react to that, Malachite suddenly bent to her and his mouth sealed hungrily over her own.

Mina let out a faint whimper of surprise, her hands automatically lifting to the wall of his chest to brace herself, perhaps even to try and push free. Yet one of his powerful arms had wrapped around her back, the other hand fisting tight into her hair at the back of her head, so any thought she might have had of getting away became a distant memory. She had only been kissed once or twice before in her life, and none of them even compared to the experience she was currently having. She realized now that all of her other kisses had been from boys, shy pecks and untried brushes of mouths.

But Malachite kissed her like a man; hot, deep, possessive. His tongue thrust into her mouth to tangle with her own again and again, causing Mina to let out a half-startled, half-aroused murmur of surprise. He kissed her desperately, voraciously, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, over and over again. Even if it _was_ just him being affected by her pheromone, the knowledge that this proud warrior was brought so low by desire for her did strange and heady things to her body. There was also something strangely erotic about the way she stood completely nude while he was still fully clothed. The tips of her sensitive breasts soon grew to aching points at being pressed so against his leather-encased front, wringing another reluctant whimper from her throat.

He dipped down lower suddenly, his mouth sealing onto the side of her neck. Mina gasped, fingers digging into the leather at the stinging pleasure/pain that erupted there as he gave her what was no doubt an impressive love-bite. And then one of his hands was covering her breast, powerful fingers kneading it’s weight just hard enough to excite her without actually hurting, the other dropping down to grip her rear and pull her hard against him. Mina felt her knees almost buckle. Instead she clung to him desperately, fighting to try and keep her sanity while being buffeted with so many sensations at once and failing miserably. Stars, she felt like she was becoming drunk herself, as her body suddenly didn’t feel like her own anymore. Mina felt hot, flushed, her skin suddenly felt too tight, her lungs too small. Her passage was quickly becoming slick with need, so much that she could actually feel the wetness between her thighs.

She was so aroused that when Malachite suddenly lifted her off the ground, Mina didn’t even think to protest. Instead her legs wrapped eagerly around his waist, her arms locking around his neck, and she found herself returning his needy kisses with a desperate passion of her own. Her head threw back with a hiss a while later when he lifted her higher, his mouth sealing hungrily over one of her nipples. He bit, he licked, he suckled, he drove her absolutely wild. And again—while his attentions were a little rough—he wasn’t actually aggressive enough to cause her discomfort. Just enough to make her nervous, which somehow increased her pleasure instead of detracting from it. Mina would spare a moment to marvel on how he managed to do that, but later. Right now she was far too distracted to dwell on it for long. Instead her fingers fisted in his hair, and she found herself moaning his name.

Then he was half-tossing her onto the bed, near the edge so that her legs still dangled over the side. Mina lay there, stunned, and stared somewhat dumbly while Malachite fought himself out of his clothes. He wasn’t gentle either, hurriedly tearing through several parts and probably ruining the fine outfit beyond all repair, though he didn’t seem to care much. And with each part that flew away, Mina felt her eyes widen, her breath shorten and her heart squeeze.

He had said earlier that no woman should be as beautiful as she was. If that was true, than no man had the right to look as good as he did. Malachite was six and a half feet of solid brawn, all bronzed muscle and pure masculine strength. The platinum blonde hair that fell over his shoulders was such a contrast to his dark skin, as well as his eyes—which were now darkened to a deep and stormy gray from the pale and cold silver of before. Mina suddenly had the urge to touch him—to slide her hands all across his hot skin and feel the power ripple underneath her fingertips—so much that her hands actually itched with it. Then he tore off his pants, and Mina gasped with a sudden twinge of maiden fear.

It seemed Malachite was a big man— _all over—_ and somehow she just knew that _that_ was never going to fit inside of her.

Yet he didn’t seem to share her reservations. Malachite suddenly stepped forward, grabbing her knees and parting them wide and using his hold to effortlessly tug her closer until her lower half was nearly off the bed.

“Wait,” she gasped, suddenly terrified. “Wait, please!” He was too big. This wasn’t going to work at all. Malachite either didn’t hear her or was beyond the point of caring about her protests however. He easily caught her before she could roll away, and then Mina threw her head back with a short scream as he buried himself fully inside her with one lunge.

Burning agony throbbed in her lower extremities, and Mina felt that surely he’d torn her apart. She whimpered in protest and confusion as he started to thrust, tears swimming in her eyes, divided between pleasure and pain and not sure which one she was supposed to be feeling, which one she should give into. But then one of his big hands was gripping her thigh in between powerful strokes, the other fleeting caresses across her breasts, down her belly. Then he suddenly pressed his fingers through her wet curls, finding the little button of nerves buried within. Mina gasped, eyes wide, her hips lifting up against him on pure instinct. Desire started to override the pain then, and she moaned a little, an aching throb of pleasure beginning to pulse in her womb. Suddenly his size didn’t seem so bad, stretching her and giving her a delicious feeling of fullness. Mina bit her lip, her hands fisting into the sheets under her head, one of her legs lifting to curl around his waist in an attempt to get herself closer. The combined sensation of his manhood burying deep into her sex and his strong fingers stroking her center was quickly pushing her to the edge to something incredible.

Her heart thudded relentlessly against her ribs, fighting to keep pace with the demands her arousal was putting on it, blood pumping hard and fast through her veins. It was building in her now, with all the destructive force of a hurricane. Every muscle in her body tightened to near painful intensity, every ounce of her being focusing on the feel of him and the heady sensations he caused. And then she suddenly toppled head-first over that precipice.

Mina threw her head back, and dully heard the sound of her own cry echo off the walls as the pleasure burst inside her body like a lightning strike. Her hips bucked helplessly, desperate, hard, and she was convinced somewhere in the back of her mind that she was dying. He’d killed her, it was the only explanation. Her climax was like a tidal wave washing through her, causing her spine to bow nearly completely back. Her whole body trembled as she held tight to the sheets and prayed for sanity. It seemed never-ending, the pulsing spasms of relief that shot through her frame, causing her inner muscles to grip tighter around him, soaking his hand, her thighs with a rush of liquid heat.

Then Malachite was gripping her hips with both hands, his pace suddenly increased, pistoning fast and hard. It was all Mina could do to cling to the bed and endure it, her nerve-endings raw from the explosion she’d just experienced. Yet it wasn’t long before he suddenly threw back and then came inside her with several jerky thrusts and a long, loud groan of his own.

Mina just lay there and panted for breath while he collapsed onto the bed beside her. Suddenly feeling exhausted and sore, she didn’t have any desire to move any time soon. Instead she stared at the ceiling and struggled to recover. A few moments later, however, she tensed when Malachite suddenly turned back to her again, one of his hands slipping between her legs. She tensed, gasping, then moaned helplessly when his wicked fingers slipped through her wet folds and unerringly found that spot that drove her wild.

The pheromone was still in his system, driving his need, making him want her again and again, never satisfied. It wasn’t long before he was covering her with his weight again, his tongue buried in her mouth while he thrust deep into her below. Mina gripped his shoulders and arched beneath him, praying to whomever was listening that she’d be able to survive this night.

 

* * *

Sometime later Malachite opened his eyes, then blinked up at the ceiling, faintly confused and wondering where he was exactly. At first he drew a blank on that, as well as why he was laying naked in a bed that wasn’t his, and why the room smelled so heavily of sex. Then he tensed as it all came rushing back—the Alliance, the Princess of Venus, the marriage. Yet everything from the day before until now seemed somewhat hazy in his mind, however, as if he’d drifted through it all in a daze, only half aware of what he was doing.

He vaguely remembered the ceremony that morning, and a little of the conversation he’d had with Zoisite before coming here, but most of it was a blur after that. The warrior turned slightly, and then tensed, feeling his eyes widen in shock.

The beautiful Princess—now Queen—of Venus lay perfectly still beside him on the rumpled bed. Her eyes were shut tight, but he could tell from her labored breathing that she wasn’t asleep, her arms ramrod straight at her sides, tiny fists clenched. Her lips were red and swollen, several purplish bruises dotting her neck and chest—love-bites. Her fine golden hair was a tangled mess around her head, her soft skin soiled with sweat and other proof of their mating. Simply put, she looked like hell. A quick glance down at himself revealed that he didn’t look much better, either.

Dear Gods, what had he done? He fought to remember just what had taken place, and caught vague snippets here or there. He remembered taking her that first time, remembered indistinct images of her crying out, remembered the tears, remembered the blood. Then nothing. He felt his heart bottom out. He’d taunted her about her culture and her experience, when all the while the girl had been completely virgin and he’d fallen on her with all the finesse of an animal in rut. Stars, how long had he been insensible to it? How many times had he forced himself on her?

Malachite glanced at her again and swallowed the huge lump in his throat, suddenly feeling ill. _Far too many._

While it was true that his loss of control was due to her using her pheromone on him, it was still a very bitter and distasteful draught for him to swallow, or accept. Malachite was a man who prided himself on his discipline, depended on it, and this was quite possibly the worst thing he’d ever done to a woman in his life. He started to rise, then stiffened when the creature beside him suddenly jerked at his movement, and then she let out a low moan of denial, lips trembling. No doubt she was sore as hell, and terrified that he was about to try to take her again. Malachite would never admit it to another living soul, but seeing that tortured look on Mina’s face—and knowing that he was the cause of it—damn near unmanned him.

He got up from the bed, expression resolute, marching into the large antechamber that held the massive porcelain bath. Malachite quickly filled it with steaming hot water, then tossed in a handful of salts kept near-by that were meant to help one relax. Then he stalked back inside the bedroom. He found her eyes open now, staring at him with wary confusion. The warrior didn’t bother with words, merely stepped over to her and scooped her tiny frame up off the bed.

Mina gasped a little, either from surprise or pain, he didn’t want to examine it too closely. His guilt couldn’t bear it. Instead he carried her silently into the bathing room, then carefully deposited her into it. She hissed as the hot water came in contact with her sore skin, then slowly started to relax. Mina would tense up a little again however when he suddenly stepped into the tub behind her, but Malachite pretended not to care.

The vessel was huge, plenty big enough for the both of them. Wasting little time, he immediately reached for the soap and sponge, and then set about cleaning the damage he’d done. She didn’t try to fight him, letting him have his way. Malachite washed her everywhere, leaving no part untouched, from her luxuriant long hair to her tiny manicured toes. Somewhere in the middle she started to cry, silent tears leaking down the sides of her face, but he pretended not to notice.

Meanwhile each one that dropped sorrowfully from her chin felt like a tiny dagger digging into his chest.

After Malachite had finished with Mina, he set her aside and then cleaned himself—his motions far quicker and less gentle than the ones he’d used on her. Then he got out, drying them both. Neither one said a word through the entire exchange. He wrapped her in one of the bigger towels before picking her up again and then carrying her into the spare room, where a smaller bed lay. Malachite set her down into it, then turned away. He almost got to the doorway, and then a soft, uncertain,

“Where are you going?” stopped him. He hesitated at the threshold, shoulders tight, but refused to turn back to her.

“To war,” was all he allowed in a soft rumble before shutting the door behind him.

Malachite dressed in his battle armor then, securing the plate mail firmly about him with sharp, angry tugs before resheathing his pure diamond great sword. He moved to the exit, but the new King paused at the threshold of it, glancing back over his shoulder and staring for a moment at the closed doorway of the spare room. His eyes hardened before he turned forward again and stepped out, not looking back again.


	11. Wedding Nights - Lita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, you guessed it. More smut.

Lita restlessly paced back and forth across the room that she’d been taken to, still dressed in her ‘wedding gown.’ Her stomach was roiling with emotion, threatening to make her sick. Fear, and then anger that she would be afraid of that arrogant bastard, hurt that her father had let this happen in the first place. The Jovian Queen was trying very hard to reconcile herself to this marriage—that her sacrifice meant the survival of thousands—yet it was a very hard thing to remember when one had to look forward to being raped to see it done.

Lita scowled, suddenly feeling like punching something, or contradictorily collapsing into a ball and crying like a child. She clenched her fist, then glanced down at her left hand. Nephrite had put a ring on her finger, one that she had to admit to herself was annoyingly pretty. It was a pale yellow gold band etched with complicated knot work, the dark amber gemstone at the top possessing brilliant yellow pinpoints in its center that looked like a constellation of twinkling stars. She’d tried yanking it off again shortly after he’d put it there, but the dratted magic thing had tightened around her finger and refused to come off.

Her trying to do so had annoyed Nephrite though, who’d scowled down at her with a mixture of annoyance and exasperated humor in his eyes. Then he’d grabbed her up and kissed her, ignoring her inelegant yell of protest. His mouth had been warm and every bit as thrilling as she’d feared, causing the proud female no small amount of terror. She wanted to hate him, and hating a man was a hard thing to do when his kisses made your toes curl. Lita had squirmed out of his hold soon after, wrenching herself away and making a show of wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and giving him a dirty look.

Nephrite had just stood and stared down at her with those pale blue eyes of his, face dark with the insult. And then he’d suddenly smirked, as if accepting her reluctance as a sort of challenge to overcome. It was that terrifying concept that made her so nervous now. She knew full well that his touch didn’t sicken her as she tried to make it seem, quite the opposite. And what would a man like that do with such knowledge, knowing that he could turn her knees to butter with just a look? He’d use it against her, no doubt. Shamelessly. Lita would be little better than a puppet to his every whim. She couldn’t risk that kind of weakness, not to anyone. She was a warrior, not some pale, helpless female to whimper and pant after some muscle-bound moron.

Lita had a duty to fulfill, to her father and to her Kingdom. She had to be strong, stronger than anyone else. There wasn’t any room for weakness.

The Jovian had worked herself into enough of a lather that, by the time the bedroom door finally opened and her new _husband_ stepped through, her emerald eyes were flashing with fury, fists clenched at her sides and chin down, ready for battle. His armor was gone, the leathery coat undone from the neck and parted to reveal the white shirt beneath it. Nephrite took one look at her near-trembling form and sighed heavily, long and loud.

“How did I know you were going to make this as absolutely difficult as you possibly could?” he questioned rhetorically to himself in a pained mutter. Lita growled.

“What, you think I should just lay back and spread my legs and let you rape me without a fight?” she snapped. “Is that what your weak-willed Earthling women do? You will not find a Jovian woman so easy to conquer.”

His face darkened at that, frost-colored eyes narrowing. “I don’t rape women,” he snarled. Apparently she’d managed to insult him with that one, and Lita sneered.

“Yet that’s exactly what you plan on doing right now,” she countered bitterly. Nephrite suddenly smirked.

“No, sweetheart. You have to have an unwilling party for a raping.” Her face flushed.

“And just what do you think it is that _I_ am, jackass?” Now he grinned full out.

 _“Incredibly_ stubborn.”

Suddenly angrier than she even thought humanly possible, Lita let out a slight scream of rage as a fine red mist settled over her eyes. She launched herself at him, not exactly sure what it was she thought she was doing, only bent on causing as much physical damage as she possibly could. Yet he was prepared for it, blocking her wild swing and then grabbing her up beneath the arms, using her own momentum to slam her back against the wall behind him. The air was driven from her lungs, stunning her momentarily.

Nephrite jerked her up higher, until she was at eye-level with those narrowed chilly orbs, and then pinning her in place with the weight of his heavier frame. “I swear to all the Stars in Heaven, woman,” he growled low, “I _will_ tame you. One way or another.”

“What are you—,”

Nephrite bent, stopping her words with the heated pressure of his mouth.

He felt her hands press into his shoulders, trying to push him away he was certain. Not that he cared much at that moment. Gods, he was the worst sort of fool. This little shrew of a woman was going to be the death of him some day, he just knew it. But sweet Stars above she tasted so _good_ . . . .

            He teased and tested her lips with the pressure of his until he got the reaction he wanted—a soft, grudging little moan of desire purring past her throat and her shifting just a little more into his embrace rather than out of it. His arms came fully around her then, pulling her long, lithe body full flush up against his own as he bent slightly with a groan and thrust his tongue past her parted lips, deepening the kiss. Satin soft heat greeted him, and Nephrite couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Hot, possessive, deep and wild, their mouths mated with a frenzy that bordered on desperation. Her nails bit into his shoulders through his leathers with a pleasant sting as her back bowed, pressing those delectable breasts up into the wall of his chest like a kitten in sore need of petting.

            The knowledge that she was apparently as turned on as he was made him damn near mindless. A low growl let out of his throat as he thrust his hips into hers if just to feel the friction, groaning as the sensation of her heat burned his aching cock even through their clothes, making him feel as though he was about to burst. She gasped, her head falling back against the wall as she met him thrust for grind, her hands suddenly locking around his neck. As he’d suspected, it wasn’t a question of wanting him—she was just as attracted to him as he was to her—it was just a matter of living with that truth. Fortunately he had her distracted enough for the moment not to care. He set about keeping her that way.

Nephrite took advantage of her exposed throat and began nibbling and licking a path down the length of it. He kept her pinned to the door with the weight of his hips, lifting his hands instead to finally test the weight of those breasts that had been teasing him relentlessly these past twenty-four hours. He could feel her hardened nipples even through the fabric of her leathery corset. Nephrite reveled in her moans and soft-pitched cries as he tweaked the pebbled nubs through the cloth, pinching and rolling the hypersensitive peaks between his forefingers and thumbs until her hips twitched and she started tugging impatiently on the fabric of his over shirt.

            Nephrite dropped his arms long enough to let her yank the coat down off his shoulders, leaving him in his white undershirt. He enjoyed the feel of her nails digging into the skin of his arms through the thin fabric as he reached down and tugged through the tapes that held her top together, then tore it away. She wore a surprisingly lacy white confection beneath it, apparently a front-clasp contraption that she herself reached down and quickly undid. The scrap of material slid down off her arms and freed her breasts at last to his starving gaze; full and high and firm and tipped in the sweetest looking coral pink nipples he’d ever seen.

            Nephrite reached back down to her rear and hefted her a little higher, his mouth descending down onto the delectable feast before him, unable to resist the compulsion to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. She hissed his name as his lips latched over one taut nipple, her fingers fisting into his long dark hair.

            Somewhere in the back of his mind he was standing, staring in shock, utterly flabbergasted at how quickly the situation had spun out of control. One wasn’t supposed to molest one’s wife up against a wall, let alone the fact that she was a princess, now a Queen. Unfortunately his conscious self had passed way beyond the point of caring, or stopping for that matter.

            Nephrite lavished attention to first one breast and then switched off to the other, suckling the hardened little berries, teeth grazing dangerously before he laved the sting away with playful flicks of his tongue. And all the while Lita whimpered and moaned her feverish encouragement, practically trembling now with need.

            They somehow managed to get her out of her clingy leather skirt and the matching lacy white panties she had on beneath it, and somewhere in that flurry of groping hands and feverish mouths Nephrite lost his undershirt as well. Her swollen lips dragged across his throat and the top of his chest, her nails digging into the curve of his biceps as he pulled her back up into his arms. With her legs spread around his hips, the scent of her arousal washed up and over him like a kick in the teeth, making his dick strain even harder against the front of his leather breeches, damn near to the point of pain.

            Again bracing her against the wall, he lifted one of her legs up and over his forearm. Nephrite forced her face to tilt back up to him with the other hand and then he reached down in between her thighs with the first. His fingers sifted down through her downy curls the same instant his mouth sealed back over hers. He felt her whole body tense up as his two fingers spread her swollen folds, finding with no small amount of male arrogance that she was already soaking wet. His thumb unerringly found the swollen nub of her clit, rubbing gentle circles at first, barely grazing. He kept that up for several minutes until she started panting for breath and grinding her hips into his hand.

            Nephrite leaned back as he began rubbing her little button with a bit more pressure, wanting to see her face when she came. And he could tell she was close, _real_ close. Her nails were nearly drawing blood with how tightly she clawed at his shoulders. He couldn’t have stopped or looked away even if the whole palace started burning down around them. His entire being was focused onto her face as he watched Lita’s pleasure slowly take her over, utterly captivated. Her head was thrown back, sweat-misted skin flushed a pretty pink, her long auburn hair beginning to fall down from its topknot in twisting fiery tendrils. Her green eyes were shut tight, swollen lips parted as she gasped and groaned for her release.

            “Oh Gods,” she whimpered, her hips jerking helplessly. “Oh, harder,” she continued. “Just . . . just a little . . . oh _please!”_

            He could do no other that satisfy her, his fingers pressing a fraction harder against her greedy sex, the fingers of his other hand digging into the curve of her rear as he braced her weight. He leaned in closer, mouth hovering over the throbbing pulse of her slender throat.

            “Come for me, Lita,” he growled then, demanding it.

            Immediately her whole body locked up as if someone had just pulled an invisible string. She started to let out a keening wail as her orgasm thundered through her body, which Nephrite quickly muffled in another kiss. He continued to stroke her until her release abated, until her body relaxed against his and went soft and pliant once more.

Then Nephrite was faced with the complication of somehow getting out of his pants without giving her the chance to go cold on him. He knew full well that if he let her get back enough of her senses to realize what she as doing—and what she was letting him do—her stubborn pride was going to have another fight on their hands. And right now he _really_ wasn’t in the mood for it.

With a lot of clever maneuvering, Nephrite somehow managed to undo the front of his breeches and still keep her kissed into a softly moaning stupor. He put half a thought to carrying her over to the bed, and actually doing this the right way, but then she undulated her hips and any gentlemanly inclinations he might have been harboring flew right out of his brain. Instead the Jovian King lifted his wife higher in his arms, took a firm hold of her hips in both hands and then slid into her wet sheath until he was fully seated with a low groan.

He met no virginal barrier to stop him, but that wasn’t surprising considering her battle training had probably long since torn through it. Lita still tensed up in his arms with an uncomfortable hiss, though, letting him know without words that she was still innocent—or had been before now. Nephrite felt something in his chest melt at the way her green eyes suddenly went very wide and very vulnerable. For all of Lita’s strength and bravado, he glimpsed at the very fragile, very feminine creature that was hiding way down deep inside her. He held her still and somehow forced himself not to move for a minute, tilting his face into the crook of her sweat-misted neck.

“Easy, little warrior,” he murmured, feathering gentle kisses to her skin. “The pain will pass in a moment, I promise.”

She didn’t look very believing but held still like he’d told her to, soon becoming too distracted with the way he was nibbling at her ear. Nephrite held out for as long as he could, until his own arousal forced him to move again, praying her discomfort had gone. Luckily, when he slowly started to rock his hips, Lita gasped and then let out a very pleasured-sounding moan. Taking that as permission to continue, he set about riding them both into oblivion. She writhed and groaned in his arms, those deliciously long legs wrapping entirely around his waist and locking at the ankle, driving him near madness. Nephrite was stunned at the amount of sheer sensuality she possessed, how well and how artlessly she responded to him.

Whether she wanted it to be or not, Lita was a woman who was made for loving. She was made for _him._

A strange sort of possessiveness taking him then, Nephrite’s thrusts became faster, harder, almost as if he tried to mark her somehow. To prove to the Gods and everyone else she now belonged to him, and no other. Lita was nothing but encouraging, her hips rising to meet him, her breath panting fast out of her chest and ending ever so often in a needy little whimper. Knowing she was close, Nephrite suddenly shifted his hold and angled his strokes to hit just the right spot. In no time at all she came undone again, crying out, the muscles in her body tightening with the strain. The sight and the feel sent him over the edge as well, and Nephrite lost himself in her with his own gritty shout of satisfaction.

And then, after several minutes and panting breaths, the haze finally cleared.

Lita went all at once from being warm, willing fluff in his arms to stiff, uncomfortable muscle. Nephrite sighed wearily, then quickly loosed her before she cuffed him upside the head or something. The look on her suddenly beet-red face told him he’d been smart to anticipate such a maneuver.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded in a trembling voice. He smirked.

“I’d have thought that would’ve been obvious.”

“Stars, you didn’t even undress fully,” she hissed scathingly then. Nephrite glanced down at his undone pants and winced, coloring slightly with embarrassment before he yanked them up again and redid them.

“Yes, well, what can I say,” he heaved, only half-teasing, “you fair overwhelmed me.” That made her snort in disbelief and disgust, however, causing Nephrite to hesitate.

Did the silly girl not know how desirable she was? He took a step toward her but she flinched away, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, crouching down to snatch up a fist full of her clothes and then raising again, holding them to her to cover her nakedness. That made him scowl. He hadn’t done anything to hurt her, he’d gone out of his wayto bring her pleasure, and she _still_ insisted on treating him like a dirty lecher who didn’t even have the right to lick her precious boot heels?

His temper getting the better of him, Nephrite stalked forward, crowding her backward. “I’ll touch you however and whenever I choose, Lita,” he growled hotly. “In case you’ve forgotten, I _own_ you now, along with everything else in your Kingdom. You don’t have the right to tell me no.”

She raised the free hand not clutching her gown to try and slap him, but he caught it easily and then shoved her back against the wall again, causing her to gasp a little. He leaned closer, until all she could see were his eyes, narrowed with his lost temper.

“Shall I take you over to that bed and show you again just how well you deny me?” he growled then, driven to do his best to hurt her as much as she seemed hell-bent on hurting him.

Much of his anger dissipated though when she suddenly bit her lip, her pretty face darkening with the beginnings of fear. And humiliation. Her lips trembled as the tears slowly welled out of her big green eyes, and then slipped down her reddened cheeks.

“No,” she whispered in answer then, tone warbling, before her chin dropped and she hung her head in defeat.

Nephrite had expected to feel triumph at finally taming her. Instead all he felt was anger, at himself.

Annoyed and frustrated, he wrenched away then and stalked farther into the room, toward where his armor lay. He would probably end up ridiculously early to the meeting, but didn’t care at this point. All he could think about was getting out of here. Getting away from her, before he said or did something else that he’d live to regret. Instead he hurriedly dressed in his battle leathers, then his armor, fastening the deadly fighting bracers around both forearms with a final jerk.

Lita remained near the doorway for several minutes while he dressed, though he did his best to ignore her for now.

“Where are you going?” she demanded finally, in a small voice. Nephrite sneered, heading for the door, sweeping past her without a second glance.

“Off to the front lines, dearest.” He wrenched open the door, then gave a sneering parting shot of, “who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll get slaughtered.” Then he slammed it shut again behind him.

Therefore he never saw her slowly sink her knees, balling her dress to her face to muffle her heartbroken sobs.


	12. Wedding Nights - Ami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably know what's coming by now (or at least I hope you do, it's kind of obvious with the chapter titles). But yah. Forewarned is forearmed.

Ami hurriedly prepared herself for bed, trying to calm her nerves with the monotony.

“It’s ridiculous to be so afraid,” she muttered to herself chidingly. “Procreation is a perfectly normal, natural function of life. People have been doing it since the dawn of time. All those other women managed to survive it just fine. There’s nothing for me to be so scared of.”

For some reason her very logical litany wasn’t helping much. Ami blew out a nervous sigh, wringing her hands. It was not that she found her new husband distasteful. Far from it. In fact, the kiss he’d given her at the end of the marriage ceremony today had been . . . strangely thrilling. Ami had never felt that way before. While it was true that she’d never actually been kissed before, she had a sneaking suspicion that there was something wholly unique about Zoisite that made the experience . . . better, somehow.

Yet she was naturally a very shy person, and it was just too monumental of a thing, the idea of stripping naked and allowing a virtual stranger to have such intimacies with her body . . . the slender Queen shuddered at the thought. This ordeal was going to kill her, she just knew it. And her father’s blustering wasn’t helping matters much either. She frowned a little now, her annoyance giving her enough courage to yank back the covers and get into the bed before she had a chance to balk.

Ami had never known her father to be so stubborn or narrow-minded before. Normally he was a very sweet and gentle man, somewhat adorable in his eccentricities, a soft soul and a very intelligent mind. Yet his unreasoning hatred of Zoisite was entirely irrational, and very unlike him. Hector had less of a problem with the man taking over the Kingdom of Mercury and more of a problem with the Earthling having anything at all to do with _her_.

When Ami had asked him about it this morning—exasperated by his unusual behavior—her father had merely smiled sadly at her and said that she wouldn’t understand until she had children of her own. Which was a very real possibility, Ami suddenly realized, gulping a little. She _was_ married now. And that was the whole point of this embarrassing exercise that she was about to take part in after all—the conception of children, who would one day become the heirs to the throne of her Kingdom.

Ami stared down at the silvery ring on her finger, somewhat captivated by the pale pink gems arranged to look like some kind of blossom. What would offspring made of Zoisite and herself look like, she wondered, somewhat dazed by the idea. A little boy perhaps, with her dark hair and his father’s sharp, powerful green eyes? Or maybe a sweet little girl, with her father’s honey colored curls and her own blue eyes . . . ?

And then the door suddenly opened, and Ami—eyes widening—forgot everything else but her own apprehensive fear as the devastatingly handsome man himself slowly entered.

Zoisite slowly closed the door behind him, gazing across the room at his new wife. Ami was a prim, beautiful little vision sitting there in his bed dressed in nothing more than a simple pale blue night shift. The sight did surprising things to his anatomy. Yet the look of stark terror on her face was hard to miss. Her frame was taut, might even be trembling he thought, with her little hands fisted tight in her lap. She was a virgin; of course she would be frightened.

Zoisite nearly groaned with frustration. He wasn’t going to be able to touch her at all in this state, not unless he wanted a fight on his hands or preferred to mate a frozen statue. Neither of those options appealed to him.

The slender man prayed for patience as he came farther into the room and feigned complete disinterest in her. Zoisite turned his back to her and began to undress, and then he pretended not to hear the strangled gasp that sounded because of it. Once completely stripped, Zoisite made his way to the bed, sat, and then stuffed his legs beneath the covers. She was trembling. He knew because the whole damned mattress was shaking with the strength of her fearful tremors. Again he pretended he didn’t notice, laying on his back and folding his arms beneath his head with a sigh. He closed his eyes. There was a long moment of silence. Then,

“M-my lord? . . . Zoisite?” He could barely hear her voice it was so soft, shaking like the last leaf in a winter wind.

“Hmm.”

“ . . . W-what . . . what do you wish me to do?”

“Disrobe.”

“D-disrobe?” Her voice cracked, it went so high. Zoisite only nodded. She hesitated for a full minute, and so he opened one eye to stare at her. Ami was nearly hyperventilating now, but at his look she slowly moved the covers aside and stood. To make the ordeal easier on her, once she stood up, Zoisite closed his eye once more and allowed her some measure of privacy. He heard the loud rustle of her shift coming off, and then the sound of the cloth falling to the floor.

Beneath the covers, his cock was now painfully hard and at full, throbbing attention. Damn, this was going to kill him.

“And now?”

“Sleep.”

“Sleep?” she parroted loudly, her voice a mite squeaky. It took some effort to keep his features bland.

“Yes.” He heaved a sigh. “I promise I won’t be doing anything to you tonight that you aren’t ready for.”

There was another long moment of silence. Then he felt the bed dip again as she hurried back beneath the warm covers. There was quiet for another few minutes as she situated herself and then, “Good night,” she finally whispered, “and . . . thank you.” His response was a nod and a loud, fake yawn.

She scooted as far as possible away from him, moved a few more times, and then finally stilled. Zoisite didn’t open his eyes again until her breathing became deep and even with the barest hint of a gentle snore nearly a half an hour later. When he did open them it was to find her as he suspected, laying with her back facing him in a half fetal position, sleeping soundly.

Zoisite then stared at the ceiling above and began counting the minutes. He was unsure how long exactly he lay there, unmoving, his whole body hard and aching for her. Ami’s scent—a gentle mix of woman and a flower he didn’t recognize—was tickling his nose and senses, driving him near insane with wanting. Zoisite fought his urges for at least an hour or more, waiting until he was sure she was deeply under.

Then he turned to her.

His plan to let Ami fall asleep before he touched her was done for a good reason, and it was not to trick her or to take undue advantage. This way she would be too groggy to be scared at first, and when her senses did finally return to her, Zoisite hoped to have the girl so aroused with wanting him that she wouldn’t care anymore. Then she would be ready, as he’d promised. While he might have otherwise allowed her to wait a while, given her the chance to get used to him and the idea of sharing his bed, the law wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t considered legally wed to her until he’d consummated the marriage, and he wasn’t legally considered the King of Mercury unless he was married to its Queen.

To that end he rolled onto his side, to where he lay directly behind her.

Zoisite lifted his hand and gently ran the tips of his fingers down one bare arm, sliding the blanket down as he went, to her waist. He watched, fascinated, as hundreds of goose bumps raised up on the sensitive white flesh. All at once the girl murmured in her sleep and then rolled over slightly to push back against him, instinctively moving closer to the warmth of his larger body with a breathy sigh. This unconscious action pleased him; though the way Ami suddenly wriggled her little rump against him very nearly did him in. There was also the sight of her bare breasts, revealed to him as she lay now half on her back against him. The fleshy white globes were each peaked with a pale pink areola, not overly large but certainly big enough, the nipples just beginning to harden with the room’s chill. His breath hitched, and Zoisite had to wait a full minute before he’d regained enough control to continue.

He moved to brush the feathery tendrils of blue hair away from her face, fingers lacing into the silky stuff as he then bent down, mouth brushing feather light against her bare arm. Zoisite moved up to her shoulder with soft, open-mouthed kisses, then buried himself in the small curve of her neck, just below her ear. At that there was a subtle but immediate change in her breathing, all at once speeding up a bit, becoming more shallow than before. Still she slept. He gently began to nibble and suckle on the tender skin of her neck while his free hand slipped around and cupped her farthest breast. Zoisite palmed it gently, maneuvering the gradually hardening nipple between his fore and middle fingers and squeezing ever so slightly, his every movement slow and controlled.

Ami groaned in her sleep, a soft and very sensual sound that went straight down to his throbbing erection, forcing Zoisite to wince. The devil in him was screaming to roll the girl over, spread her thighs and bury himself in her heat, but he fought it off with an iron will, silently vowing not to take her until she was good and ready for his entry. Yet passion inflamed him, and his suckling became just a bit more intense, his ministrations to her breast just a little more forceful.

He knew at once when she woke. Ami had been lying completely compliant against him, even pressing ever so slightly back as he continued to fondle her. And then suddenly she went stiff and rigid and her eyes flew wide open.

“What! What are you . . .”

“Shh-h,” he soothed gently, halting her fearful cry, the arm he had draped around her tightening and holding her against him when the frightened girl made to roll away. Zoisite gently nuzzled her neck despite her half-strangled little gulp, his thumb slowly circling her now completely distended nipple. Her body shivered at that, though he didn’t think it was completely from fear, leastwise his guilty conscience hoped it wasn’t. Again he softly shushed her, this time just above her ear before drawing the lobe into his mouth and nibbling gently. Ami whimpered then. Again, he hoped the sound wasn’t all from anxiety.

Zoisite continued this treatment for several minutes, until he felt her body slowly loosen again and rest easily back against his own. At this sign he kissed her jaw, her cheek, then took Ami by the chin to turn her face to his. He stared for a moment into her big blue eyes, watching her full lips part and tremble with an indrawn breath, before bending down and capturing them with his. Zoisite nipped dangerously at her lower lip, then canted his head and slipped his tongue between it, eager to taste her fully. He couldn’t help the low groan that tore from the back of his throat when he did. The taste of her, the feel of her, it was simply incredible. He couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

When Ami tentatively placed her tiny hand around his neck, however, and shyly met his tongue with her own, Zoisite was completely lost. If he had been insistent before, he became voracious now. He all but devoured her, tongue thrusting again and again into the warm, wet core of her, never satisfied. Somewhere in the back of his mind he feared he might be frightening the girl with the full force of his passion. Yet she didn’t seem to be much afeard of him now, her fingers lacing into his long hair at the back of his head and shifting ever so slightly so that she lay completely on her back now and even more at his mercy.

He had none.

Zoisite finally moved back down after a while; gave a quick kiss to her chin and then nibbled down the curve of her neck as Ami at once tipped her head back after his gentle nudge urged her to do so. He continued down to her collarbone, skimming it with his tongue, then moved down to the nearest breast. She stiffened again in his arms, unsure, but Zoisite didn’t give her a chance to become overly upset. His mouth closed over her nipple, licking first and then drawing dangerously with his teeth while his hand moved to cup her other one again. Her response was a slight, breathless cry and to arch slightly off the bed, her hands clutching at his neck and shoulders with a death grip. Zoisite grinned wolfishly against her flesh, then continued to kiss, nip and suckle her until she was breathing fast, ragged and shallow beneath him.

Once he felt he’d prepared her sufficiently, Zoisite kissed his way back to her throat while the other hand caressed significantly lower, beneath the covers that still draped her lower half. Again she tensed slightly, but didn’t fight him as his hand gently rubbed its way down her flat belly and then through the soft nest of curls below it. Zoisite continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, something he was learning his new wife rather liked, while his hand below slowly began easing her thighs apart. His long fingers gently stroked against her outer lips at first, winning him a slight cry and her hand fisting tight into his hair. She shifted restlessly in his arms, murmuring. Zoisite continued this for a bit, teasing her, until her legs suddenly moved just a fraction wider with impatience. Taking that as a sign to proceed, his thumb pushed inside to find the hardened nub of her clit, while his longest finger simultaneously buried itself deep into her sheath, finding her hot, tight, wet and more than ready for him.

Zoisite released a low groan of pleasure into her ear at that. Ami’s breathy whimpers grew in volume and in frequency as his fingers began to stroke ever so gently, slow at first and then gradually building speed. She whispered his name several times, squirming slightly, voice trilling and breath hitched back into her throat. Nearly mindless now with the strength of her need, the girl had completely spread her thighs apart to allow him easier access, knees slightly bent and drawn up, causing the blanket to completely fall away. The way she moved slightly against his hand and the sound of her soft, aching cries innocently begged for what Ami did not yet know how to put into words. His fingers were quickly becoming drenched. Zoisite let out another rough growl of encouragement, seizing her mouth again with his just before he inserted another finger into her and dramatically increased the pressure of his thumb. His strokes grew harder, faster. It didn’t take long at all before he was rewarded.

Ami all at once grew completely taut beneath him, throwing her head back into the pillows and letting out a soft, near-breathless wail. Her hands clenched spasmodically around his neck and shoulder, nails biting into his skin, just as her inner walls clamped down on his fingers. Zoisite continued to stroke throughout, smiling slightly with just a bit of male smugness, as the girl rode out waves of her first ever release. Only when she loosened again, breathing hard, did he finally stop.

After a moment her eyes opened again, heavy lidded now and almost glassy with wonder, desire, fulfillment. And with that look, his control finally snapped. Zoisite moved over her at last, bending to smother her lips again along the way, groaning when she eagerly—if still a bit shy—attempted to imitate his actions in response. Her slender hands gripped his neck first, then moved down to his shoulders. She slowly raked her nails down his back and Zoisite let out a loud, hoarse growl, hips almost instinctively pressing forward. She was going end this before it really began if he didn’t get on with it soon. To that end he lifted up, positioned himself, and then slowly began easing his way inside her channel.

The feeling was indescribable; hot, tight, wet—like a warm fist gently squeezing him and pulling him farther inside. Ami moaned loudly beneath him, echoing his own pleasure, and Zoisite continued to thrust farther inside until the thin wall of her virginity blocked him. He gently rocked back and forth for a time, thrusting slowly, stopping just short of tearing through and trying to prepare her for what was to come as best he could. Soon the desire to completely bury himself became more than he could bear, however, and so with a fortifying breath he pulled back and then thrust in to the hilt, ripping asunder what last vestiges of innocence she possessed. Ami released a slight cry of discomfort, and heaven help him, Zoisite tried to stop to allow her time to recover. His body didn’t seem to want to cooperate with his will however, and very soon he was moving again. Probably sooner than he should have.

After a bit she began responding favorably to him once more, though, releasing her little pleasure sounds again. Ami let her hands roam freely over the plane of his muscled back, soon beginning to match his thrusts with tiny hip movements of her own, further bedeviling him. Zoisite could only muffle a groan into her sweat-dampened throat, cursing mentally. The girl was determined to drive him to an early finish. He quickly retook control of the situation, sitting up on his knees and grabbing her by the hips and rear. Zoisite lifted her slightly from the bed, then, allowing for him to thrust more deeply inside. Completely taken by need, Zoisite began pounding into her fast and rough, desperate to find his own pleasure now. Yet her reedy cries only encouraged him harder, faster, her tiny hands now fisting into the covers beneath her head and her legs wrapping around his hips. He could tell by the way she was crying out that she was close to another release, and so to facilitate this need, a hand slipped between their bodies and he found her sensitive little nub again.

Almost immediately Ami shattered around him, this time her cry loud and throaty, her whole frame shuddering hard with the strength of it. The sound, sight and the feel of her clamping down onto him were more than Zoisite could take. And so with a gritty shout of his own and one last thrust, he joined her in that sweet euphoria. Then he very nearly collapsed, stopping just short of crushing her with an elbow. It took him a long while to recover.

When he finally did, Zoisite gently eased himself away, his breathing still labored. Ami fared no better, her head slightly turned to the side, eyes already drifting shut with fatigue. A small grin split his features. Damn I was good.

Silently he reached for the blanket that had nearly been kicked to the floor and drew it back over them both. Then he lay back again on his back, arms folding beneath his head. Almost immediately she rolled over to him, snuggling up against his side for more warmth. Zoisite tensed, but he gave no other outward reaction to this, unmoving as she released a loud yawn and then buried her head onto his chest and a slender arm slung around him, quickly drifting asleep once more.

He sighed, staring down at her pretty face, feeling himself torn. Would that he could believe this was a display of growing affection, yet his logical mind knew better. It was just the after-effects of her first sexual experience, the rush of endorphins and hormones effecting her system, giving her the instinctual urge to cuddle. After all, a Mercurian didn’t feel such trifling emotions as love, she had said so herself.

That made him wince.

Zoisite himself was not a hard man, not nearly so guarded or callous as some of his fellows. He did what had to be done when it needed to be done, yet he had still somehow managed to hold on to his idealistic beliefs through the years, not becoming jaded or cold from the hell he’d seen and endured. While most men scoffed, Zoisite had been a very firm believer on the concept of true love from a very early age. With his parents, how could he not?

Jaasa’s love for his father was enough that the Princess of Phaeton had defied an entire galaxy and risked everything to be with him. And as a result Mica had loyally treasured that—and her—above everything, all the way up until his dying day. And when his father died in the war six years ago, his mother—otherwise perfectly healthy—had withdrawn from everything and just withered away, until she followed him into the grave a year later. Zoisite believed very firmly that she’d simply died of a broken heart.

Zoisite had loved—and had been loved by—his parents dearly, and held their memory in the highest regard. It had been one of his dearest wishes to one day find the kind of love that they had together. The kind that made older women sigh wistfully and young children giggle, the kind that spanned miles, defied nations, cheated death itself. Yet now that dream was just a distant memory.

The now-King of Mercury stared down at Ami’s sleeping face for a long time, then roused himself near dawn. He carefully slid out from underneath her, and thankfully she didn’t wake, merely burrowed deeper into the covers with a soft grumble and then slipped back into her dreams—whatever they may be. What would a female from a cold and loveless culture dream of? Could they even dream at all?

Zoisite grimaced, then forced himself not to think about it. Instead he got dressed, donned his armor, then resheathed his thin rapier. There was no sense in pining away for what could have been. What’s done is done. He was a General, now a King. He had more important things to occupy his mind than this. Besides, he was married to a very intelligent and beautiful woman who had already agreed to be his partner in all things and to support him in any way she could. He should be grateful for the things he did have, instead of miserable for the things he didn’t. Zoisite turned, then swept out of the room and closed the door gently behind him.

So what if she could never love him back?


	13. Wedding Nights - Raye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of the smut! For now, at least. Hopefully it wasn't too terribly repetitive. Also, this chapter has the biggest element of dub-con (of a psychic nature) than the rest. So be aware of that.

Raye sat on the cushioned divan near the bed, arms crossed, glaring at the closed door—somewhat amazed that the heat of her stare hadn’t set the thing on fire by now. The former Princess, now Queen of Mars was already furious. Having been kept waiting for what felt like hours wasn’t improving her mood any at all.

Not that she was eager for her new ‘husband’ to come and claim her. Quite the opposite. That lying, deceitful piece of garbage wouldn’t be touching her for a long, long time—if ever!—if she had her way. No, Raye wanted him to hurry up and arrive so that she could weasel the truth out of his lying hide before she left for her own rooms and locked the door firmly behind her.

Jadeite had done something to her, altered her mind somehow, she was sure of it. Something more than what she remembered had happened in his bedroom yesterday. That was the only explanation for why she had reacted so ridiculously to the hulking braggart at the ceremony earlier.

It just wasn’t normal to feel so—so . . . _consumed_ by a man’s kisses, so inflamed by his touch. Raye had completely forgotten who or where or why. As soon as his mouth settled on hers, his skilled tongue slipping between her lips, his powerful hands curling so hard and sure on the curve of her hips—she’d simply forgotten everything entirely but him. His was a very powerful mind, after all. She could sense that much. Who knew the depths of abilities that these Earthlings possessed? Her humiliating display in front of her parents and everyone else had shamed her to the core, and now she wanted to know _exactly_ what it was that he’d done to her, so that she could undo it. Jadeite _had_ to have done _something_ to her to make her feel like this.

Raye was absolutely unwilling to accept the alternative.

Her mother had tried to sooth her, but the stubborn girl was having none of it. Finally Delphi had just shaken her head sadly and turned to leave, but not without a few cryptic last words. “‘Ware, daughter,” she had called softly. “Play with fire and you’re bound to burn.”

Raye scoffed now, rolling her eyes. The only one destined to burn here was that jerk Jadeite, if he didn’t get himself into this room within the next ten seconds!

Her eyes were caught by the glittering on her hand, and she glared down at the ring there spitefully. The stupid thing wouldn’t come off. It had to be enchanted with a spell of some kind, locking around her finger and refusing to loosen. It was a heavy gold band, carved in the shape of a dragon curling around her finger, nose to snout, and then wrapping around a fairly large blood-red ruby at the center. If she was in a more forgiving mood, Raye might have thought it beautiful. She was nowhere near being in a forgiving mood at the moment, however.

And then the door opened. Stifling the brief stab of apprehension that tried to let loose, Raye gained her feet and drew on every ounce of anger and humiliation that she had been harboring since this morning to give her courage.

 _How dare you?!_ she hissed directly into his mind as soon as he’d put one foot in the doorway. Since she knew he could hear her, it was more natural for her to use mind-speech than it was to talk out loud. Raye saw him flinch slightly, surprised, then he smirked that damnably annoying smirk of his. Jadeite closed the door and stepped farther inside.

_How dare I what, sweeting?_

Raye shivered, scowling, as confused and thrown out of sorts as she had been at the Alliance meeting last night. Why did the touch of his mind feel like a heated caress, making her skin flush and her heartbeat quicken? It just wasn’t normal! She scowled with renewed conviction.

 _You’ve done something to me,_ she accused bitterly, fists clenching. _You’ve implanted something in me, some sort of suggestion or—or . . . I don’t know what!_ Raye finished, exasperated, motioning helplessly. _I want you to fix it! Now! And don’t call me ‘sweeting!’_ she added then.

Jadeite merely grinned, reaching up to start unfastening the armor that still encased him. Raye did her best to hide any unease that that action provoked, keeping her mental shields at maximum to mask any unwanted emotion. The last thing she wanted was for him to know how much the idea of sex terrified her. Raye was not one who revealed her fears easily, to anyone. Least of all to strangers who had far too much of an effect on her for her peace of mind.

_I am afraid you’re mistaken, sweeting. I haven’t altered your mind at all._

_Liar!_ she snarled, adding a slight telepathic push that had him wincing with discomfort. _I can still_ feel _you inside of me,_ she admitted, somewhat grudgingly. _You did something to me yesterday in your room, I know you did! I want to know what!_

Raye saw him grimace a little then, slightly shame-faced, and she felt a grim sort of satisfaction arise. She _had_ been right all along.

 _Okay, you’ve got me there,_ he heaved, setting his armor aside and undoing the clasp at his neck with a sigh. _Something did happen in my room, but it’s not what you’re thinking._ Raye scowled, but he continued before she could comment. _You tried to get a glimpse of my thoughts, I believe you remember that much._ The suddenly red-faced girl did her best to ignore her blushing guilt. So he _had_ known what she’d done. _Well unfortunately at that time I didn’t know that Martians were telepathic,_ he continued heavily. _So, as I hadn’t been expecting you to try and sneak a peek in my head, I didn’t have any sort of walls up. My . . . power, I guess you’d call it, latched onto yours and . . . sort of sucked you in, is the only way I can describe it. In the process it completely tore your mind to shreds._

Raye just stared at him, unable to even grasp such a concept. To do such a thing, his psychic abilities would have to be . . . _immense,_ more so even than her mother, who was thus far the most powerful psychic her planet had seen in decades.

 _Well, since I didn’t relish the thought of leaving you in a state of drooling vegetation, I had to rebuild and repair all of your mental pathways. That’s why you still feel me in there._ Jadeite smirked then. _Not because I’ve somehow used my powers to turn you into a sex-crazed nymphomaniac._

Raye gasped, her face flushing hotter. How in Stars’ name had he known that!? She hadn’t gone into any specifics! He just smiled and tapped the side of his temple in answer, causing her to scowl again.

 _If that’s the case, then why can’t I remember any of this?_ she countered then. He shook his head slightly.

_I had to alter your memories a bit, as Endymion didn’t want anyone knowing the true depth of our power before the meeting._

_So you_ did _alter my mind!_ Raye crowed, triumphant at having gotten him to admit it.

 _I omitted certain aspects of what happened,_ he corrected dryly. _I didn’t drastically change your way of thinking or reacting to me._

 _Where I come from, to change someone’s memories is a vile, despicable crime,_ Raye pronounced angrily. One eyebrow shot up at that.

 _Really? What kind of crime is it to pry into someone’s head and read their thoughts uninvited where you come from, sweet pea? ‘Cause where_ I _come from, it’s pretty damned offensive._

Raye just glared at him, refusing to admit the hypocrisy of her outrage.

Jadeite sighed again, suddenly reaching up and completely unfastening the front of his leather coat. The heavy white garment parted, revealing the heavy ropes of bronze muscle beneath, barely contained by a thin linen undershirt. _Now, I’m willing to forgive and forget. Let’s say you do the same. We have other things to concentrate on, you and I._

Raye almost didn’t hear him. Instead her mind was suddenly focused on other things, and she felt herself start to shake with an old fear.

 _No!_ she near shouted, unable to hide the terror in her tone anymore. Jadeite immediately stiffened, confused. Then he scowled.

 _What’s wrong, Raye,_ he demanded, not asking.

 _Nothing,_ she insisted, turning away. _I just don’t want you touching me. I have no desire to lay with an Earthling—!_

Moving faster than she thought possible, suddenly he was across the room and right behind her. The powerful male took her by the arms and forcefully turned her back toward him. Raye gasped, crying out slightly with the suddenness of the maneuver and with the spark of panic it caused. When she turned her head back to look at him, however, she was suddenly lost into the depths of his eyes. Her body unwillingly relaxed in his hold as Jadeite concentrated, forcefully pushing past her mental barriers to glean the information that he wanted.

And then he paled slightly before wincing, and the pitying look he gave her immediately set her teeth on edge.

“Oh, Stars,” he heaved aloud in a hoarse whisper, one of his hands sifting through her hair in back, as if trying to pet her pain away. “I wouldn’t do that to you, sweeting. You have to know that. It won’t ever be like that with me.”

“You’re right,” she snapped back, trying to wrench herself out of his grasp, but he was far stronger than she was. The irrational hysteria was starting to bubble to the surface, making her breath shorten and her skin pale. “It won’t because you won’t be touching me. _Let me go!”_

Jadeite’s expression suddenly hardened with determination, and Raye’s terror started to get stronger.

“Please,” she lowered herself to begging, her voice nothing more than a trembling whisper now. _“Please_ don’t do this! Please!”

 _I have to, sweeting,_ was his soft answer, _and you know it._ Raye let out a soft noise of denial, feeling tears prick her eyes. She couldn’t let him touch her. She couldn’t do this. It was going to hurt too much. She had _seen_ it. Yet Jadeite easily held her when she tried to desperately twist out of his hold, seemingly ignoring her low, keening cry. And then he suddenly lifted her up, until she was eye-level with him, and once again Raye found herself drowning away under his mental strength. _You won’t ever feel any pain from me,_ he whispered into her thoughts, his words like a soft, warm caress across her mind. _Only pleasure, dearling. Only pleasure. I swear it._

Raye tensed up a little, gasping when she felt him push fully into her head, until their minds were fully merged together, until she couldn’t tell where she stopped and he began. Strong, concise, utterly male, Jadeite forcefully blocked away all the thoughts and memories that could give her any fear of pain from what was coming. Then he connected with the part of her mind that dealt with pleasure, and something he did then made that part of her become a hundred-times more sensitive than before.

Raye panted a little, stunned. Suddenly the mere action of being pressed up against him was beyond erotic, causing her whole body to go haywire. And she couldn’t for the life of her remember why this was a bad thing. He grinned down at her, and then he was laying her down onto the bed. When he knelt over her, Raye gasped—helpless to keep herself from arching up against him in a blatant invitation—her fingers curling eagerly into the material of his shirt with a soft cry. He just felt so _good,_ she couldn’t seem to get enough of it. The feeling was incredible . . . he was _addicting._

And suddenly she wanted all of him. _Now._

Raye didn’t fight him at all when he bent to her, instead lifting up eagerly to meet him half way, kissing him just as desperately as he was suddenly kissing her. Their mouths mated for several minutes; deep, hot, hungry. Then Jadeite suddenly bent lower, kissing and gently biting at the side of her neck, his tongue teasing the shell of her ear, his breath warm and wet against her skin. Raye moaned aloud with the sensation, then she was tearing at his shirt, desperate to get it off. She suddenly wanted to feel his skin against her hands, wanted to test those hard muscles that had been teasing her these past few days, to feel the play of power against her palms.

Jadeite chuckled a little at her eagerness, but lifted up enough to grab the shirt in both of his own hands and then he ripped it apart himself, buttons flying everywhere. Raye immediately flattened both palms against his flat stomach, then slowly skimmed upward, nails raking up his chest and then out to his broad shoulders, slowly pushing his shirt down and off his thick arms. It was Jadeite’s turn to groan then, eyes closing against the pleasure as Raye sat up and began feathering nips and kisses down his neck, over his collarbone, onto that wide chest that so captivated her.

What was perhaps the most erotic of all was that their minds were still fully merged, so that his pleasure was hers, her pleasure was his, impossible to tell them apart. They felt everything at once, together.

Raye made a slight noise of protest when Jadeite forced her to stop kissing him a moment later, but he suddenly pulled down the low scoop of her top until her breasts spilled free and that protest quickly turned into another breathless cry when his tongue suddenly lapped across one of her nipples, while one hand closed over her other. Because their minds were so closely joined, there was no need for words. He knew instinctively just what to do and how to do it to bring her the most enjoyment. Raye could only moan and pant for air as he continued to lick and fondle her breasts for quite some time. Meanwhile she was clenching her legs together in a futile attempt to assuage the fierce ache that had bloomed to life there. She could actually feelthe slick proof of her own arousal now coating the insides of her thighs.

And then he was suddenly moving farther down, kissing and licking a path down her belly—making her cry out as his tongue playfully teased her belly button along the way. Then he was brushing the many scarves of her skirt aside, hooking his fingers into her red silk panties and carefully pulling them down her legs. Too aroused to be embarrassed, Raye didn’t protest when he gently forced her legs to open for him. Jadeite brushed his fingers through her soft thatch of curls, then suddenly traced the seam of her outer lips ever so gently with his index finger, from top to bottom. Raye shivered, then jerked when that was quickly followed by a long and lazy lick of his tongue going the opposite direction. And then as he reached the last few inches he suddenly increased the pressure, completely parting her folds and the tip of his tongue unerringly found her swollen nub hidden there.

Raye arched up off the bed, fists clenching and teeth gnashing with the effort it took not to scream. Her legs shook tremulously as Jadeite continued the slow torture, licking her sex over and over and over again, lapping up her cream and mercilessly forcing more from her. Her body was now covered in a fine sheen of sweat from her fierce arousal. She nearly hissed when he began carefully raking his blunt nails down the sides of her thighs, the added stimulus almost more than she could bear.

This erotic battle of wills continued for several long minutes, she was unsure just how long. Raye lost track of time, and much anything else other than the hot, wet tongue between her legs, slowly driving her insane. She panted heavily, her fists twisted deep into the sheet she lay on, eyes squeezed shut tight. The pressure was building higher and higher inside, until she felt like she just might burst if he kept it up any longer. An especially clever twist of his tongue while carefully kneading the globes of her rear with his big hands finally pushed her right over the edge.

Raye let out a loud, keening wail as her first ever release crashed over her, raw pleasure exploding through her veins and causing her whole body to shake with the sheer strength of it. And then Jadeite lifted up, his blue eyes almost glowing, a grin of primal victory on his face. “Mine,” he suddenly growled, his voice so deep and guttural now she nearly couldn’t understand what he said.

And she was so intoxicated with want, she didn’t begrudge him that declaration, instead proving it greedily as she lifted her hips off the bed to help him tear off her skirt, then helping him out of his pants. Raye fell back then, and spread herself again eagerly when he hovered over her. His face was dark, now, the planes of his face made harder with his need, cheeks flushed and blue eyes sharp with it. Jadeite took a hold of her hips, and then he was burying himself inside of her.

 _Mine,_ he reiterated again, tone deep and utterly possessive, this time directly into her mind.

Raye just cried out, nearly unable to process the incredible feelings fluctuating throughout her body. Somewhere in the back of her mind she gave a fleeting thought to how it was supposed to hurt, her first time, yet she felt nothing but pleasure from his claiming. Just as he’d promised. Here he paused, and Raye silently marveled at the furnace-like heat of his powerful muscle against her softer skin. He slowly leaned down until he completely covered her, his massive chest blanketing her front, his hands planting into the mattress on either side of her head. Jadeite surrounded her, a huge wall of male power, strength and undeniable claiming.

“You are mine,” he suddenly repeated, a low soft growl in her ear. “I want to hear you say it.”

Whether it was wise or not, Raye mulishly held her silence, unwilling even now to let him break her completely. Jadeite suddenly let out a soft growl—as he was in her mind, he could sense her stubborn defiance—and then he lifted up. He began slowly pistoning himself in and out of her body then, with just enough force to drive her wild but not nearly enough to do more than that.

“Say it,” he suddenly ground out. Raye bit her lip near to the point of breaking the skin, eyes squeezing shut. Jadeite stopped his thrusts, then eased back nearly to the point of pulling completely out of her body before tunneling back in agonizingly slow. On the second thrust, one of his hands slid between them, until one of his fingers carefully pressed through her soaked curls and rubbed fleetingly against her swollen clit. Raye let out a low, keening mewl. “Mine. _Mine,_ Raye. Say it, goddammit!”

Raye let out a loud cry, and then the words were seemingly ripped out of her throat on the tail end of another agonizingly slow thrust. “Yours!” she sobbed. “I’m yours! _Oh Stars!”_

And then he was driving into her fast and hard, near brutal with his strength, yet it was just the sort of attention her greedy sex was craving. Having been teased and tormented past the point of rational thought, Raye arched her back beneath him eagerly, shoving her hips up against his thrusts. Like an addict, all she could think of now was getting her fix; wanting and needing to come with a desperate abandon.

And then she was. Raye screamed out her second release. She had no other choice, the sensations were _that_ powerful. Moments later she felt Jadeite tense up, and then he buried himself inside her one last time and finally came as well, swamping her own senses with the incredible pleasure he was feeling and forcing her to arch and cry out yet again with it.

Jadeite slowly came back down from euphoria, every muscle in his body clenched with the aftermath, breathing labored. Sweet Gods above, who knew making love to another telepath would be so . . . hot? To say that this had been the most incredible sexual experience of his life would have been a vast understatement.

And on some level he was able to admit to himself that it might have had less to do with the fact that it had been with another telepath and more with the fact that it had been with _her._ Raye lay beneath him, currently panting for breath, looking well-loved and sated and so beautiful it stole his breath. He carefully eased out of her, then settled on his side, brushing a kiss to the side of her temple.

Yet all at once—after he slowly released the merge he’d held with her mind—Raye suddenly went as stiff and uncomfortable as a board. Jadeite leaned back a little, and felt the ground fall out from underneath him at the look of stark hurt and betrayal in her eyes.

“How could you?” she hissed, her thoughts a tumultuous mixture of fury and vulnerability. Jadeite was severely confused, not understanding how she had gone so quickly from one mood to another.

“How could I what?” he demanded, somewhat dumbly, but then at that moment he felt a little dense, so it was appropriate.

“You just _raped_ me!” she snarled then, setting him back. Jadeite just stared at her, too shocked to react at first. Then he scowled.

“I did no such thing! You were more than willing—,”

“Because you _made_ me that way!” Raye shot back, grabbing the sheet and yanking it up to cover herself. “I specifically told you _no,_ and you forced me anyway!”

“You were afraid,” he tried to reason, tone softening a little with sympathy. “All I did was block the memory so it wouldn’t affect you, and increased your ability to feel pleasure so losing your virginity wouldn’t hurt. I was only trying to show you—,”

“What?” she interrupted harshly. “Show me what? That despite what _my_ wants or feelings are, you will force your own will upon me, no matter what? _Don’t touch me!”_ she near screamed when he lifted a hand to do so. Jadeite jerked back, more from the very real fear and loathing in her mind than her words.

Suddenly he felt like scum, and what was worse, he wasn’t even really sure why. To his way of thinking, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet Raye believed he had, very strongly, and the amount of disgust she had for him was difficult to bear.

Feeling ill, he quickly got out of the bed and then dressed. Raye didn’t say anything else while he re-donned his armor, strapping his sword belt around his waist with a few sharp tugs. He resheathed his sword, then hesitated. His head bowed, fists clenched.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for whatever wrong you feel I dealt you,” he ground out. He lifted his head then, staring at the wall, jaw tight. “It won’t happen again.”

And then with that he swept out of the room, without another word.


	14. Battle for Saturn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some battle chapters. Tried my best to maintain a balance of good fight scenes without drawing it out and becoming unbearably boring.

Nephrite was the first to arrive to the pre-arranged meeting place, though Jadeite wasn’t too far behind him. Both men sat in uneasy silence for a time, agreeing without words not to bring up or mention anything that had happened between themselves and their new wives tonight. When Zoisite arrived a few hours later, the silent agreement stood. Yet when their stern leader finally appeared near daybreak—looking absolutely exhausted and wrung out—Jadeite just couldn’t help himself.

He shot Malachite a teasing grin. “So, Mal, are the rumors true?” The tall man just glared. Then he tensed up with discomfort when Jorowyn suddenly appeared out of nowhere, right behind him, and tossed a companionable arm around his shoulders before shooting the others a half-grin.

“A lesser man would be _dead.”_

Malachite shrugged off the hold with a grimace, ignoring the others’ chuckles. The splash of humor did all of them a lot of good however, somewhat loosening the strangle-hold of tension that had been choking the atmosphere. The King of Venus—the only one _not_ laughing—eyed Jorowyn with a raised brow.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on Earth right now?” he demanded dryly, “training troops?”

Jorowyn grimaced, then snapped his fingers. “Damn, I _knew_ I was forgetting something.”

“You’d better get out of here, Jory,” Zoisite teased then, grinning, “before Endy shows up.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he still wants to kick your ass for yesterday,” Nephrite followed up.

“I’m pretty sure he does, too,” a new voice called, and the others turned to see the dark-haired King in question pinning Jorowyn with a narrow-eyed stare.

The slender Phaetonian just grinned fearlessly, then reached for something strapped to his wrist. “Ah, gotta go! Troops to train and time’s a’wasting.”

The other men in the clearing gaped as Jorowyn activated the device on his wrist and then disappeared into a miniature teleporter wormhole.

Jadeite, blinking heavily, was the first to recover. “What in the hell . . . since when can he do _that?”_ he demanded incredulously. Zoisite just shook his head, smirking.

“That’s what comes from leaving Jorowyn mostly alone to his own devices for the past two days, with a whole planet full of fresh components to work with.”

“There are times when your cousin truly frightens me, Z,” Neph heaved, causing the other to sneer.

“Only sometimes?”

A few moments later Shima and a handful of Saturnite warriors—the elite of what was left of his Imperial Guard, the man had assured—suddenly appeared in the glade. The tall warrior’s band of office was gone now from around his brow, replaced instead by a simple black cloth—the outward badge of the dishonor that they would be fighting to absolve. Endymion nodded to his bowing salute.

“Well met, Shima. What news can you give me of our target?”

The tall Saturnite General reached into the front of his black garb, pulling out a small silver device. He pressed one end, and Endy tensed slightly with amazement as a large holographic image of the planet Saturn appeared from the other. He was still getting used to all the technological marvels that these other Kingdoms enjoyed. While not exactly medieval, Earth herself had nothing near to these kinds of advancements. Improving daily life on his homeworld was one of the many advantages he was looking forward to enjoying once this war was finally over.

A swarm of red dots appeared over the entire surface.

“These are the latest images, my Lord,” Shima announced grimly. “The Youma number into the hundreds of thousands now.”

“Where is the central palace,” Malachite questioned, as the other four came to stand in a semi-circle around the image, all of their faces tense with determination now. Shima motioned to the northern hemisphere, on the smallest continent, separate from all others.

“The Imperial Palace is located here, on Endura-Prime, as is all of the royal housing. The entire continent was reserved for only those bearing noble blood.”

“We should concentrate our efforts there first,” was Malachite’s suggestion. Nephrite nodded in agreement.

“It would give us a nice base of operations once we retook it.” He motioned to the map. “Ocean to the north and west, mountain chains to the south and east. It’s naturally fortified against all but aerial attack.” Shima nodded.

“Which was why it was chosen for the Imperials in the first place. We had managed to hold here for quite some time before their sheer numbers simply overwhelmed us.”

Endymion put a comforting hand on the somewhat embittered Shima’s shoulder, then turned to the others, expression hardening.

“Very well then. Our course of action is set before us. We’ll start by retaking Endura-Prime.” He motioned a path across the planet. “From there, we retake every major continent and land-mass until we bottle-neck their forces into this area here.” Endymion indicated a large valley between two massive mountain ranges. “That is where the Negaverse will make their final stand. And that is where we will annihilate them from the face of the planet.”

“Just like when we drove the Youma out of the Northern Wastes,” Jadeite agreed with an eager grin, tossing his head absently to remove any kinks.

Endymion turned on his heel then, starting off into the direction of the transporter. His four former Generals fell into step behind him, Shima and the other Saturnite warriors not far behind that.

“We’ll transport in first,” he called, “and clear the way for the rest of our troops who shouldn’t be far behind us.”

The technician, seeing that they were approaching, quickly began inputting the coordinates. Endymion scowled, wrenching his sword from its scabbard as the center of the transporter suddenly stilled and showed a war-torn landscape of blackened soil and flashing violet skies. And everywhere, the horrid Youma of the Negaverse roamed.

Expression stern with determination, he allowed himself only a moment to murmur a silent prayer, and then he leapt through the portal and head-long into hell.

Endymion landed nimbly into the soft black soil in a half-crouch, then recovered quickly and leapt toward a large scaled creature to his left, using the element of surprise to neatly slice its head from its shoulders before the monster even had a chance to react. Then he turned away, dodging the splash of bluish ichor that erupted—knowing from experience that some of the Youma’s blood tended to be acidic and corrosive. The angry hiss as the stuff splashed onto the ground around him told the King he’d been wise to be so cautious.

Endymion managed to fell two more creatures before the majority of them were able to recover from his sudden presence. The lone warrior soon found himself surrounded by what seemed to be an endless sea of monsters. And then, in a sudden flash, Malachite, Zoisite, Nephrite and Jadeite all appeared around him.

Malachite launched forward, his enormous great sword audibly slicing through the air before it clove a monstrous bull-like Youma completely in half. In moments, no less than ten others shared it’s grisly fate, the dark Saturnite soil hissing and spitting angrily around him with the copious amounts of blood he drew.

Zoisite nimbly tumbled out of the way of a reckless charge, then spun around, a thousand foot-long jagged spikes of greenish crystal erupting from his outstretched palm and peppering at least fifteen Youma beyond. All of them collapsed to the ground, dead or dying. Then the slender warrior flipped into a handless cartwheel back in the other direction, drawing the rapier from off his hip in the same motion before gutting another near-by monster, expression curled into a fierce snarl of battle lust.

Nephrite twisted and spun around, his braced arms flailing out in a deadly dance, crushing and decimating foes left and right. The dark-haired warrior nimbly ducked then a split instant before a deadly-barbed tail swept past and would have taken the head from his neck—having anticipated the action without knowing it was coming, using his unique and eerie ability of precognition. Nephrite grimaced as both of his fists were abruptly engulfed in jagged bolts of violet-black electricity. He darted in, then planted both charged fists into the chest cavity of the Youma in two stiff uppercuts in rapid succession. As the huge creature stumbled back, Nephrite planted one foot behind him and then sent two massive bolts directly into the creature’s face. It fell completely to the ground then, instantly dead.

A wall of blue fire suddenly erupted to one side, incinerating countless Youma in an instant, their dying wails and screams almost lost into the roar of the flames. Jadeite gazed on, brows knit with concentration, expression hard and merciless. Then he turned, pulling the bastard sword on his hip from its sheath, to meet the massive furred creature that had stalked near. The creature crouched slightly, jaw yawning in eagerness to show the rows of jagged teeth that lined it, wickedly huge talons held at its side and ready to rip this insolent human to shreds. And then it drew back, confused, as it was suddenly surrounded in over twenty mirror copies of him. Each one looked exactly the same, incredibly life like, impossible to tell which was real and which were the illusion. The Youma snarled, making a swipe for one of them, yet his paw passed right through the image, dissipating it. The nineteen other Jadeites darted in with a snarl, and then the Youma screamed out its death throes as the Warrior King’s sword plunged deep into its vulnerable underbelly.

Shima and his warriors could only stare on, completely dumbfounded by the display. Instead they watched, rooted to the spot, as Endymion suddenly launched himself forward again. The powerful Earth King raised his sword high above him and then with a roar he suddenly hit one knee and drove the point of his blade deep into the black earth. For a split instant a symbol suddenly flashed on his brow—a bronze circle bisected by a cross—before the entire ground around them began rumbling and shaking with mighty tremors. Shima and his warriors gasped as great chunks of earth began ripping up around them, flying through the air and slamming into hapless Youma. Then the very ground itself split wide in a great, yawning chasm, swallowing hundreds whole before slamming shut again—killing them all instantly.

“These are not men,” one of his warriors whispered hoarsely, the sound of awed fear deep in his tone. “These are Gods in mortal form.” While inwardly Shima was in complete agreement, he wouldn’t allow his wonderment to effect him. He scowled then, and motioned sharply with his arm.

“Enough!” he snapped. “Arm yourselves! The battle for your home is taking place around you! Will you stand and watch it like frightened children or bare your blades and join in the struggle?”

The metallic screech of several unsheathing swords were his only answer. Shima grinned, drew his own blade, then as one the Saturnite warriors rushed into the fray. A moment later the area around them was suddenly filled with what must have been several thousand Earthling warriors. The battle-hardened troops didn’t hesitate, rushing forward with roaring battle cries.

 

* * *

“My Prince.”

Jorowyn cringed at that term, then grimaced. No matter how many times he’d told them to stop, they insisted on continuing to refer to him as their monarch. After a while Jorowyn had finally stopped trying, just doing his best to ignore it.

“Yah?” he demanded rudely, reaching blindly for his flask—for the only thing that he’d found that could deaden the pain.

The slight female behind him stood with her arms at her sides, the soft gray and blood red-tipped feathered wings that proclaimed her full-blooded Phaetonian heritage folded regally over her back. Her over-large blue eyes seemed to glint and glow in the faint light of his darkened room, reflecting it, another give-away to her race as well as the delicate, bird-like bone-structure of her narrow face. Her long pale hair hung down her back in a loose braid, to stay out of the way of the deadly crystal cat-claws she was wont to form over her wrists when in battle.

The former Phaetonian General cleared her throat a little. “There are a few . . . unexpected additions to the recruits that were sent to us, my Lord,” she answered, tone soft and faintly deadpan.

Jorowyn turned to Sharpe at that, and lifted his eyebrow. “Define ‘unexpected.’”

Before Sharpe could answer him, a loud and angry voice suddenly shouted from beyond,

“Jorowyn! Get your lazy ass out here! Just what in the hell do you call yourself doing in there anyway?!”

Both of his eyebrows lifted in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. He knew that voice.

The former Prince got to his feet and stepped past Sharpe, then ducked his head out of his door and peered out into the hallway. Sure enough, there stood the tall and perpetually angry Princess of Uranus—fully decked out in her battle leathers—hands on her hips and bad-tempered scowl on her face.

“What in the hell are _you_ doing here?” he demanded snidely, in no way intimidated by Amara’s bluster. She glared, but it was Sharpe who answered calmly from behind him.

“I believe Princess Amara as well as Romulus of Mars, Theseus of Jupiter and King Oceanus of Neptune have all arrived with their troops and plan to take part in the war as well, my Lord. They’re here for training, the same as their men.”

Jorowyn snorted. “What’d you do, lose a bet?” he scoffed, but blinked slightly in surprise when Amara’s face darkened a little with embarrassment. He just shook his head with a bitter laugh. “Lucky for the both of you that you drew the short straw. Your mother—though pea-brained at times about everything else under the sun—knows a helluva lot more about your planet’s defenses than anyone else. And with you being about twenty-five years younger, you’re more suited to the front-lines right now. So congratulations for _accidentally_ doing something intelligent. I guess that kind’ve counts.”

Before a now-fuming Amara could do much, Jorowyn turned back to Sharpe and handed her his flask. “You and Thorne take the troops and start on their reconditioning. Begin with going over the different types of Youma and their habits, as well as their weaknesses. Send the royals to me.” Jorowyn turned back to a red-faced Amara and grinned nastily. “I’ll take over their training _personally.”_

 

* * *

_One Month Later . . . ._

Endymion sat at the huge long table, eating a meal of cold rations in the ruins of what was left of the Saturnite Imperial Palace. The ancient structure as well as the entire continent of Endura-Prime had been re-taken, as well as several hundred miles of surrounding territory. They were currently at a stalemate, however, until the new troops joined them. Even their enhanced abilities were no match for the Youma’s sheer numbers, especially now that they’d fortified themselves against attack.

The four Warrior Kings sat with him, as well as Shima and a couple of other higher-ranking soldiers. Endymion took another bite, then grimaced and washed the tasteless food down with a gulp of drink, grimacing. Stars, he _hated_ rations.

“Hey, what’s with the face?”

The men at the table all started and turned to the sudden voice, the Saturn natives less used to the occurrence and half-reaching for weapons before they realized that the speaker wasn’t an enemy. Endymion locked eyes with Jorowyn—who had appeared in a shadowy corner—and smirked.

“I must have sensed you coming,” was his flippant response, causing the Phaetonian to chuckle.

“Well fine, I’ll just go back to Earth and take my fifty thousand warriors with me.”

Shima blew out a stunned whistle, eyes wide. “So many?” Jorowyn nodded, loping forward and grabbing a chair, twisting it around before he sat in it backward and braced an arm along the back.

“Give or take. Shocked the hell out of me too, at first. Mercury only pledged about 2,000, though that’s not surprising, since they’re not known as a warrior people. Same with Lunara, with around 3,000. Venus managed a little better with something close to 5,000 troops. Then we have Mars, turning over around 10,000, and Jupiter with something close to 12,000 fighting men. Uranus was close with around 11,000, and then Neptune spared around 7,000 from their defenses. They’ve all been teleported here onto Endura-Prime, freshly trained and ready to go.” Jorowyn grinned then, reaching for something off of Zoisite’s plate and popping it into his mouth—ignoring his cousin’s annoyed look afterward.

Jadeite blew out a slow whistle. “Combined with our 15,000 and what’s left of Saturn’s forces, we should make a damned impressive army.”

“And that’s not all,” Jorowyn continued, still smiling, now with a wicked glint of humor in his pale jade eyes. “I got the chance to hold my own personal training class with some very special students this past month.”

Endymion lifted an eyebrow at that, but several others suddenly entered the room, answering the question before it was spoken. He felt his eyes widen slightly in genuine surprise. Here was a development he hadn’t expected.

Leading the small group was Jorowyn’s bodyguards—whether he wanted them to be or not—the former Generals of Phaeton, Sharpe and her Mate, Thorne. The larger of the couple had hair as blonde as hers, though his was razored short and close to his head, and his largish eyes shared the same golden color. His wings were larger than hers as well, a deep brown trimmed in gold and currently folded over his back. Both of them were dressed in their battle gear, black armored vests trimmed in blue and red respectively, with matching leather pants and knee-high polished boots.

They weren’t surprising, but the four individuals that followed them were. Very much so. The Princess of Uranus, Amara, followed closely behind in her navy-blue armor, two short-swords at either hip and at the ready. Then the former King of Mars, Romulus, in sweeping black and red with a matching leather breastplate strapped over his clothes, an enormous falchion hanging from his waist. After him came the large former monarch of Jupiter, sporting well-worn brown and green leather and a double-headed battle-axe nearly as big as he was across his back. And finally, the King of Neptune—Oceanus—dressed in glimmering silver and aqua-colored scale-mail hefting a deadly trident in one fist.

Endymion stood as the last of the group entered and fanned out in front of him. He eyed each in turn, accessing their resolve and finding each more than worthy.

“I have to tell you, I did not expect this,” he announced softly. Amara scowled.

“You may be a bunch of lying, war-mongering bastards,” she huffed, “but this fight is mine as well. I’ll not sit idly by while it happens around me.”

“If you are willing to put your life on the line for the fate of our people,” Romulus inserted then, tone soft but firm with conviction, “then we could do no other than risk the same. We might not possess such incredible powers as you have discovered, but I assure you that each of us are competent enough warriors in our own right. If my sword or my tactical knowledge can offer anything to this war, then you have it.”

“Here, here,” Theseus rumbled, and Oceanus nodded his agreement as well.

“We are yours to command, young one,” the older, blue-haired monarch announced, voice deep. “Prove your brave words of a month ago to truth, lead us to a complete victory, and you shall have my allegiance and that of the entire Kingdom of Neptune until our dying breath.”

Endymion grinned, then nodded. “Alright then, gentlemen. And ladies,” he added in deference to Sharpe and Amara. “Let’s say you we get to work? There’re a lot of Youma out there needing to be put in their graves.”


	15. Restoring Pluto

_Three and a half months later . . . ._

“Here boy, you’ll catch your death.”

Nephrite glanced up from where he’d been staring pensively into the flames of the camp fire in front of him to see Theseus standing above him, a heavy fur dangling from his big fist and a similar one wrapped around his own massive shoulders. They and the rest of Endymion’s army were currently camped out on the outskirts of the Plutonian Grand Palace, the Negaverse’s last major stronghold on this small, cold little planet. Their combined forces had swept across the surface of Saturn like an unstoppable tide, and in a month’s time they had completely eradicated the Youma from that world. A contingent of warriors had been left there to maintain the defenses, but the bulk of the force pressed on to Pluto.

They had been deadlocked here on this dark world for the past two and a half months, however. The Youma had been able to carve out a more permanent foot hold on this planet, after all. And to Neprhite’s thinking, the monsters seemed just a little more determined to hold their ground here—more desperate than they had been on Saturn—though he couldn’t say yet precisely why that was. It was just a feeling he had, though over the years he had learned well to trust his instincts in these matters. It was this that was currently troubling his thoughts, making him ignore all else—including the bone-deep chill that had pervaded the surrounding air.

Nephrite gave a half-sheepish grin up at Lita’s father and took the fur, thanking him before wrapping it around his shoulders, immediately warmed and far more comfortable than he had been. Theseus just grunted in response before setting his battle axe near and then settling himself near-by with a loud sigh. He was an intimidating old bear, especially when you first got to know him, but after a while Nephrite had found that beneath all the gruff bluster Theseus was a big softie. He was also a very honorable and extremely capable warrior, and a great leader of men. They had become good friends over the months, and Nephrite would count himself lucky to continue to gain from the former monarch’s experience and knowledge.

Theseus had professed to him a few weeks ago that a large part of him was almost grateful that this had all come about. That there was a part of him that was just too tired to continue maintaining the rule of his planet alone. “I’m an old man, Nephrite,” he’d heaved softly, “and these warring times are the province of men much younger than I. And I have seen your mettle, boy. I doubt there is a warrior on my planet who could best you, and you might even give _me_ a good run,” he added with a boastful grin, causing Nephrite to chuckle in answer. “For all that you are an Earthling, there are few better that I might have hoped could take my place, or lead my people,” he finished then, uncommonly solemn.

Nephrite had been touched, and strangely heart-heavy. For most of his life he’d grown up hating the Silver Alliance and what they’d done to his home, his family. Somewhere in that hatred he’d forgotten that the members of the Alliance were flesh and blood people too, and that—maybe somewhere in the seeming cold-hearted choice that they’d made and the horrible repercussions it had caused—they might have had their own reasons for doing what they’d done, that went beyond simple prejudice and spite.

“You’re certainly just the sort to take my damned daughter under firm rein,” he’d grumbled afterward, immediately making Nephrite even more uncomfortable. He’d even felt his face warm with it. Theseus just continued to grouse, oblivious. “That absolutely maddening girl-child has grown completely wild,” he’d complained in exasperation, though with an unmistakable undercurrent of affection in his tone. “While it’s true she can damn near best most of my warriors in combat—and while a father might be pleased and proud with that fact as well as reassured with the knowledge that his little girl can protect herself from most dangers—I sometimes wish she would stop trying so hard to act like she isn’t a female. I fear she’s missed out on much that womenfolk are supposed to do and know.” Theseus had sighed then, his great shoulders drooping with a sudden weight. “No doubt it’s all my fault. If only her mother had lived . . . .”

The giant of a man had trailed off at that, staring off into the distance, the wind tugging at his long tail of silver-streaked hair. Nephrite hadn’t pressed him, keeping silent. In time, Theseus had offered up the information on his own.

“Arianne was the most beautiful woman you would have ever seen,” he whispered suddenly, tone hoarse with memories and his normally hard dark eyes soft and shining with them, his expression unguarded. “Hair like living fire and eyes as green as the forest just after a summer storm. She was Venusian, you see,” he had announced then. “I had met her while visiting that world, while settling some trade agreement or other. Arianne was serving as one of Psyche’s attendants.” Here he grinned slightly. “I remember, she had laughed and told me later that she had never seen a man so big as me before, and that that curiosity was the reason she’d originally accepted my suit. I was no fool. I married her as soon as she would let me, and made her my Queen. Lita was our first, soon after, and then Aden four years after that.” Theseus had hesitated again for a moment, then sighed, glancing down at the ground at his feet.

“Arianne was forever venturing down to the ground level and exploring. She wasn’t from my world after all, she didn’t understand the dangers like the rest of us did. She had wanted to find a basketful of the Canya water lilies that day, that grew in the marsh. She took the boy with her for an adventure, he had just turned three . . . .” Nephrite had watched his face go dark then, and felt his gut twist, unfortunately having guessed what was coming next. “The storm came on us suddenly, as it can so often do on my homeworld. There was a flood, they were caught out in the middle of it. When the storm passed, there was nothing left of them.” Theseus had swallowed with difficulty then, expression ravaged. “We didn’t find their bodies until nearly a week later.”

“Gods,” Nephrite had whispered then, horrified. “I am so sorry.” Theseus had shook himself at that, and shook his head, then flashed him a tight smile.

“It was a long time ago, boy.” Nephrite didn’t buy it.

“And yet the pain doesn’t ever seem to ease,” he’d murmured softly, earning a wince from the larger man, “does it.” He gave his own sad smile then. “It is strange indeed, that no matter how many years pass by, you can still feel the pain of their passing as if they had left you only yesterday.”

Theseus nodded silently to that. “You’ve lost loved ones in this war, then?” Nephrite had nodded tightly.

“My father, and both of my younger brothers. They were only ten and seven.” Theseus had growled under his breath, in a somewhat touching show of sympathetic anger, causing Nephrite to smile. It had faded again when the large man suddenly continued with,

“So that is the reason Lita acts as she does,” he’d shared. “I sometimes think she tries so hard to be like a boy, as if trying to replace her brother—who was to be my heir, as is our custom. And while I do hope you are able to make her more fully appreciate being a woman, not a man . . . I also hope you’ll keep this in mind,” he finished quickly, gruffly, “and not treat her too harshly should she try your patience. And if I know my daughter, that is almost an inescapable given.”

That made Nephrite think back on his ill-fated wedding night, now as well as then. He sighed slightly, drawing the fur more closely in around himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought on his infuriatingly hard-headed, beautiful wife these long months past. Lita had sent her father several messages over the weeks, inquiring after his health and how the battle fared. Not surprisingly, she hadn’t bothered sending _him_ any. And when Theseus had noticed his disgruntlement at that—and laughingly suggested _he_ send _her_ a missive—his damnable temper had moved him to send only one simple line ;

_‘Sorry love, not dead yet.’_

He winced in remembering it, rolling his eyes at the childish spite, then shook his head again. There wasn’t much he could do about Lita until after this war was won, and he settled himself in his new home and Kingdom. Then there would be time aplenty to gently tame his stubborn wife, and—as her father put it—convince her that she was a woman, and to be glad for that difference.

 

* * *

“Come on lads!” Romulus yelled, motioning with his blood-soaked falchion to the force of men behind him. “A few more yards and victory will be upon us!”

His battle cry inspired the otherwise bone-tired and weary warriors to rally behind him, roaring out their renewed vigor. Romulus led a good portion of the Martian flank forward, cutting a bloody swath through the ranks of the Youma hoard before them. After two long months of never-ending battles, Romulus could feel the end nearing. Perhaps a little over-eager for it, he rushed head-long into the fray, his deadly scimitar slashing foes left and right.

He never saw the talons descending for the back of his head.

That is until a, _Rom! Look out!_ roared in his head. Romulus ducked and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the vicious downward swipe of the Youma that had snuck up behind him. Before he could even think to get to his feet and recover, Jadeite suddenly appeared between him and the monster. His tanned face was fixed into a hard snarl, his dark blue eyes spitting fire, death in their depths. The younger warrior had the beast dead within moments, then turned back to him. Romulus was once again stunned at how easily and quickly Jadeite’s demeanor could change, going at once from the powerful warrior to a light-hearted boy, complete with playful grin on his face.

 _Careful old man,_ he teased with a laugh. _I can’t always be around to keep saving you like this._

This wasn’t the first time that the young warrior had come to his aide in the past months. Romulus let out a mocking growl of his own, though he accepted Jadeite’s hand-up just the same. _Watch it with the ‘old man’ comment, pup._

Jadeite just laughed, then suddenly hovered back into the air—levitating himself with just the power of his mind.

Romulus had been very skeptical at first, at allowing this Earthling upstart to marry his daughter, let alone take over his entire Kingdom. Yet Delphi had soothed him, murmuring that she had seen a vision—one that had given her great hope—and hinted that this unlikely boy was the answer to more than one problem that plagued Raye and their people. Though hard for him to believe, Romulus had learned well over the years to trust his wife’s judgment. She had never led him astray, and the former King was to find that she was right in this instance as well.

Jadeite was a wonder. A chaotic mix of playful boy and powerful man, one who had charmed and fully earned his way into the loyalties of Romulus’ men. Both with his easily approachable manner as well as his steadfast courage and willingness to put himself in the path of danger for any one of them, no matter their rank or station. This behavior had also soon won over Romulus himself. He had begun to think that, yet again, Delphi had known exactly what she was doing when she prompted him to accept Jadeite’s suit for Raye’s hand. His only child could be a stubborn, hellacious bundle of temper when she didn’t get her way—which was probably all his fault, spoiling her as he had.

Yet Jadeite seemed just the sort to take her in hand. Out of anyone that he might have chosen on their own homeworld and beyond, Jadeite suited his little girl more than any of them. When he looked at it that way—as well as all the incredible things that Endymion and his warriors had done and accomplished for them—Romulus couldn’t remain bitter at the way it had all come about.

The fighting pressed onward, to the very gates of the palace and then beyond it. The different prongs of warriors all met in the main courtyard for what would become the final battle.

Endymion led a force of Earthling and Lunaran warriors straight up the middle, his incredible earthquake abilities spear-heading the force. To the left was Malachite leading a mixture of Earthling and Venusian warriors, his glittering diamond sword flashing with bursts of light that seemed to instantly disintegrate the Youma on contact. Also on the left flank were Nephrite, Theseus and a battalion of Jovian warriors, arcs of black lightening streaking across the battlefield in their wake.

And then Jorowyn and his two Generals—Thorne and Sharpe—stood with Princess Amara and her legion of Uranian female amazons. The Phaetonian Prince wore no armor, only the tunic and pants he normally favored. Yet now he had two katana blades fashioned entirely of green Phaetonian crystal in both hands, impossibly sharp and lighter than air. The slender man whirled and twisted around in a deadly flurry of motion, betraying his common façade of drunken stupor to reveal the very deadly warrior he could be—and was. The female Sharpe stood at his side, her wings fully flared with both fists sporting three-foot long cat claws made of crystal as well. And slightly behind them stood Thorne, having fashioned a bow of the deadly material and shooting an unaccounted number of beasts with his never-ending supply of crystal arrows.

Romulus and Jadeite led their warriors down the right side, with columns of blue fire generated by their leader bursting this way and that. Also taking up position beside them was Oceanus and his contingent of Neptunian fighters. And then to their rear, Zoisite directed the squad of Mercurian warriors armed with shoulder-mounted laser cannons. While few, their deadly technological fire-power well made up for their lack of numbers.

This sea of warriors clashed in the courtyard, the ground shaking with the sheer amount of bodies as well as the power being released. The fight was long and tiring, but finally—in the end—the humans counted themselves the victor. The clamor that went up could be heard all the way back in Lunara Romulus would wager.

It was almost surreal, to think that they had finally won the day. Yet as he and the other leaders converged after several hours of clean up and routing, it was to see Endymion’s face furrowed with worry. The young Praetorian shook his head at their questions with a sigh.

“It just seems too easy,” he heaved. Amara scoffed, favoring a wounded leg wrapped in bloody linen.

“You call that easy?” she demanded incredulously.

Endymion shook his head, then murmured, “I don’t know, perhaps I’m just being paranoid. Yet I cannot help but feel as though we have not seen their full muster yet. It’s almost if they let us win.”

“And if that is the case, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Zoisite suddenly cut in, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. He too was wounded, dried blood crusted down the left side of his face and neck from a wound on his head that he’d apparently forgotten about. “Sitting here brooding on it will do nothing but give you a migraine.”

“What is our next move, then?” Oceanus demanded, and it was Malachite who responded with,

“We should withdraw for now. Fortify our defenses against whatever the Negaverse might be planning.”

Nods of agreement were shared all around at that.

Then Jorowyn suddenly appeared from inside the palace, his expression grim. “Endy, come. There’s something you should see. The rest of you as well.”

The others all turned to follow the Phaetonian into the bowels of the Plutonian palace. In due time Jorowyn had led them into the inner sanctum, where a massive warded door stood closed. It was marked with ancient binding runes—meant to keep all those without royal Plutonian blood out. It was heavily scoured now, gouged and beaten . . . as if something had been working very hard to get through regardless of the protections.

“Was this what they were after, then?” Amara questioned softly, and Jorowyn nodded.

“That would be my guess.” He reached out and ran his fingers down one of an especially large gouge, what looked to be claw marks. “Behind these doors rests the Time Gate.”

“Stars, if the Negaverse had gotten control of it . . .” Zoisite whispered, tone soft with horror, an emotion shared by many of the others.

“What could they want with it though?” Nephrite questioned, but Jorowyn shook his head with a sneer.

“We’ll never be able to know for sure. Except one way.”

He suddenly stepped over to the battered globe near-by and put his open palm over the surface. Immediately it activated, glowing a pulsing red and green. Romulus gaped.

“I thought only the royalty of Pluto could open the Inner Sanctum.”

“Jorowyn’s mother was the younger sister to the King of Pluto,” Zoisite supplied helpfully. “He and the Princess are first cousins.”

Romulus blew out a low whistle. “That would mean that he is the heir to the throne.” That caused Zoisite to smile.

“Don’t remind _him_ of that. Endymion’s been pestering Jory for a month now to assume the throne and oversee Pluto’s defenses.” Rom turned to the younger man, eyebrow raised, while the massive doors in front of them slowly started to open.

“What was his response?”

“I believe his exact words were, ‘drop dead.’”

Romulus snorted.

Meanwhile the portal in front of them had opened up to show a blinding white light, making anything difficult to discern. Suddenly a figure stepped up to the opening, and then out. Romulus gasped. The last time he’d seen Trista, she’d been a girl no older than ten or twelve years, and that had only been six or seven years ago. Yet now here stood a woman as old as he was—with dark green hair falling down to the backs of her calves and glinting garnet-red eyes. Robed in the smoky charcoal robes of her station, the princess bowed before them.

“Thank you, Men of Earth, for liberating my home and saving that of the entire Silver Alliance. Mere words cannot express my gratitude.”

“Yah, it’s a helluva lot more than you did for us,” Jorowyn spat. Trista straightened at that, and turned to him with a stiff look. For a moment the cynical veneer was stripped away, to show a glimpse of the ravaged, enraged young man that lay beneath the surface. “You knew what was coming. You could have stopped it, and yet you sat and did _nothing_. They were your _family,_ and you let them die like animals!”

“You know I am not allowed to reveal what the Gates show me, Jory,” she murmured, voice soft with ache.

“And I also know that sometimes you have to say to hell with the rules, and do what’s right!” he snarled back.

“I did what I was trained to do, what I thought was right,” she responded, and though her voice was clogged with tears of regret, her face shone with quiet dignity. “Then as well as now.” She suddenly turned from locking gazes with her embittered cousin to stare at Endymion instead. “‘Ware, Men of Earth. The Fates have placed in your care gems of _unimaginable_ value, of which you are not the only ones eager to possess. Hold fast to them, or all is lost.”

And then before anyone could say or do anything else, Trista suddenly turned on her heel and disappeared back into the light. The doors sealed shut behind her with a soft thud. Jorowyn made a noise of disgust.

“Half-truths and vague half-assed descriptions, just like always. It would’ve been a bigger help if you’d just kept your mouth shut!” he yelled somewhat ineffectually then, before reaching into his tunic and suddenly producing that silver flask of his, taking a long and vengeful pull of it.

“So what now?” Jadeite demanded.

“While unclear,” Romulus murmured, “the words of a Time Priest should never be cast aside lightly,” he advised, and everyone ignored Jorowyn’s rude snort beyond.

“We return to our Kingdoms,” Endymion announced firmly. “Do everything you can to mount your defenses. We will heed the Priestess’ advice, and guard well ourselves and our possessions. Hopefully we won’t ever have to find out just what she meant by that.”

Romulus sighed however, somehow doubting that that would occur. The universe just never seemed to work out near that easily.


	16. Unexpected Friendships

Serenity took the message from Artemis—ignoring the man’s knowing smirk—and eagerly ripped it open. Her eyes darted down the contents, and immediately she felt a strangely conflicting mixture of joy and fear.

It was a letter from Endymion. He had taken to sending them to her regularly after she had written him for the first time, three months ago. The young Queen wasn’t sure just how she had felt that first morning, waking up to find herself alone in her marriage bed, her husband long gone to war without ever having said goodbye. She had thought long and hard on it as the weeks passed and her mother and Luna began grooming her to take a more active role in the rule of what was now her Kingdom.

While she never did come to a solid conclusion, Serenity had been moved one night to write him a letter, unable to take the suspense and the worry any longer, wondering what was going on and if he was okay. She had asked him these as well as included random bits of information about what had been happening back home with her—strangely moved to share some of her innermost thoughts and worries, her doubts concerning her ability to be a good Queen. Serenity had stayed up for half the night writing it, then sent it off to the front lines, never daring to believe that he would respond. Yet he did, only a week later. His letter had been cool and concise—not nearly as emotional as hers had been—though not unkind as he gave her what was no doubt an abridged version of their exploits on the battlefield and informed her how they were faring. And then, most surprising of all, at the end of the missive he’d advised her to ‘ _keep your chin up, little Queen. Do not fret so, and you’ll do fine._ ’

Serenity had been so touched by that little sentence that she’d sat down to write him back immediately. Thus they had kept up a steady exchange of letters for the past three and a half months. And now, in this latest one, Endymion was informing her that the war on Pluto was soon to be won, and that he was soon to come home. That was the reason for her conflicting emotions. While he had been away these past months, Serenity had been able to get more used to the idea of being married, and it was indeed a monumental thing. Yet not quite so terrifying as she had originally thought, especially with him being a galaxy away on Pluto. Sharing the letters had been easier, safer. Yet now he was coming back. Was she ready for that? And why did the thought of him returning make her belly suddenly feel as though it were filled with anxious butterflies all clamoring to get loose all at once?

“I hope it is good news,” Artemis murmured after a moment, and Serenity blinked, coming back to herself. Then she smiled a little, cheeks coloring at having been caught daydreaming.

“Ah, yes Artemis. Very good news. Endymion writes that the war is nearly won, and that the men are soon to return home.” The white-haired shape shifter grinned.

“Very good news indeed. I had been hearing rumors of the same for some time now, I am glad to have it confirmed.” Then he shook his head. “Amazing, is it not, what these Earthlings have accomplished? More incredible still that it is _they_ who have accomplished it.”

Serenity nodded. “Yet our history has shown that such powers come with a need, not a desire. What need have we had for such abilities, free from war for countless centuries? Yet Earth has ever been rife with struggle, with need. It makes sense then, that they should have powers that we do not.”

Artemis just grinned. “It appears as if someone has actually been paying attention to her lessons for once.”

At that Serenity blushed and glared. Yet before she could take him to task, Diana suddenly appeared.

“Sere, it’s almost time for the meeting. I’ve already arranged for tea and dessert in one of the sitting rooms.”

Serenity thanked her, murmured a half-way petulant goodbye to the still-laughing Artemis, then hurried off to the sitting room to meet with her newfound friends.

Before this all began, Serenity had been acquainted with all the princesses of the other kingdoms, though they had never really been given a reason to become anything more than that. Yet after the wedding and their sudden advancements in status—from Princesses to Queens—the five girls had discovered a kinship with one another that had only grown over the months. They had taken to meeting together for a few hours of the day once a week, to talk and visit with one another as well as help each other through whatever trials and tribulations had occurred. It had become a lifeline that Serenity truly cherished.

The young Lunaran Queen entered into the lavishly decorated sitting room, and her mouth immediately started to water as soon as she saw the delicious, delicate little chocolate cakes set out on the table. Diana—who had followed her—gave her a stern look and swatted her hand away when Serenity moved to take one.

“Wait for the others,” her companion admonished, causing Serenity to pout.

“Hey, just who is the Queen around here, huh?”

“Exactly,” Diana sneered. “One would think a Queen would have better manners.”

A red-faced Serenity went to plop into one of the overstuffed chairs, arms crossing with a jerk and suddenly looking more of a petulant girl-child than a monarch. This was how Ami and Raye saw her when they entered a few moments later. The Queen of Mars took one look at her and laughed.

“What, did you try to sneak a piece of cake, and Diana cut you off?” she guessed, grinning. Serenity just stuck her tongue out at her, causing Ami to smile.

“The others will only be a few minutes,” the blue-haired girl tried to soothe, as was her way.

True to her word, only a few minutes later Lita stepped through the door, flashing them all a friendly smile. The warrior-Queen came to sit on one of the divans with a sigh, murmuring a return greeting to those that Ami, Raye and Serenity called. They had to wait several more minutes for the last of their group to arrive, which was heralded by an exasperated noise followed by a plaintive animal’s rumble. Mina suddenly swept through the doorway, one hand on the head of the massive white cat-like creature at her side and the other bracing the top of what was now a very swollen middle.

“I swear,” she heaved, sounding out of breath, “these two beasts are going to be the death of me!”

The others were torn between laughter and sympathy as the Queen of Venus came farther into the room and then sat—somewhat carefully, as her larger belly was starting to make that more difficult than it used to—against a mountain of pillows that had already been prearranged for her. The great cat—called a tiger, Serenity had learned—lumbered in at her side and immediately curled up next to her. The creature, whose name was Zaire, belonged to Mina’s husband; his childhood pet they’d been told. Zaire had come to stay on Venus with Alexandrite—Malachite’s uncle—several months ago just after the wedding and, for some reason, from day one the tiger had attached itself to Mina’s side and refused to leave it.

“How is the baby doing?” Ami questioned curiously. Mina winced, though her blue eyes softened as both hands covered her swollen belly.

“Just fine, though at times I think he’s trying to beat me to death. Mama says I was restless in the womb too, but so far her remedy of ‘talking’ to him isn’t working much.” As if to prove it, Mina suddenly jerked in place and then hissed in discomfort before rubbing against her now-sore ribs.

Serenity gazed on, fascinated as she had been all through these past four and a half months with Mina’s condition. Knowing that, eventually, she too would probably share it. “Here,” she suddenly called, reaching for the dessert. “I bet he’s just hungry. You should probably feed him a piece of this yummy cake.”

“I bet _you’re_ just hungry,” Raye countered playfully, “and using Mina’s son is a nice excuse.”

Raye nimbly dodged the pillow that came sailing her way, causing the others to erupt into gales of laughter. After a few minutes of light-hearted teasing and conversation—while the cake and tea was consumed—Serenity suddenly sat back and sighed. “So have you all heard the news?”

Ami nodded solemnly, though the others just stared at her, questioning. This wasn’t surprising, as Serenity knew that only she and the Queen of Mercury had any real kind of communication established with their new husbands. So little in fact, that the father of Mina’s baby had yet to actually find out that he was even going to _be_ a father.

“I received a letter from Endymion this morning,” she announced, folding her hands in her lap with a sigh. “It seems the battle of Pluto is all but won. The men should be returning to us very soon.”

Reactions to her words around the room were varied at best.

 

* * *

Mina gasped, her hands reflexively covering her stomach as if to protect it. Then she winced and bit her lip as her startle had caused the baby to flinch as well, burying what felt like a bony little foot directly into the center of her ribcage. The Venusian Queen stared down at her overlarge stomach then, consumed with conflicting emotions—not the least of which was guilt.

She still hadn’t told him about the baby.

Her mother had been pestering her for weeks now to send Malachite a message, especially after she had passed the third month of her pregnancy and it had become impossible to hide. She supposed it wasn’t that much of a surprise, when she found out she was breeding barely a month after he had left—consumed with a strange sickness that would come and go and a fatigue that refused to leave her no matter how much she slept. Mina had lost count of how many times he’d mated her that night after all, but it had certainly been quite a few. So if not from the potency of his seed, one had taken root simply from sheer repetition.

She still got conflicting emotions from thinking about her wedding night. Confusion, mostly, as she was still unsure just how she felt about it all. Most of the fear and pain from the experience had been forgotten over the long weeks, however, so Mina no longer looked back on it with distaste. In fact—her cheeks coloring slightly with chagrin—due to her somewhat heightened sensuality from her pregnancy, as of late images and memories from that long night had started to haunt her more and more. Mina had taken to waking up at all hours of the night in a sweat, aching for him. Yet she had only to remember the cold, dispassionate way Malachite had treated her afterward to douse what little excitement tried to stir in her breast at the thought of the powerful warrior returning to her.

Mina still remembered _that_ quite vividly. She could have easily forgiven him the pain and discomfort she had felt from his claiming. His insatiable appetite had been _her_ fault, after all, not his, and she understood that. But when Malachite finally surfaced from her Scent near dawn, he had said not a word to her. No apologies, no explanations, not even any condemnations or accusations. Instead he’d just picked her up out of the bed and put her in the tub—as silent as death—then commenced to cleaning her up with all the emotion and infliction of someone washing dirt from an old shoe. While not ungentle, his ministrations had been impersonal and cold in the extreme. Mina’s inability to feel what he was feeling had made the experience highly uncomfortable and humiliating in a way she couldn’t even begin to explain, causing silent tears to leak out of her eyes throughout the entire ordeal.

And then he had left her, and the only reason he’d even bothered telling her to where was because she’d finally swallowed her pride and demanded the answer. Afterward Mina had fallen into an exhausted sleep, her body fighting to recover from the night past. When she awoke it was to discover that—while still a little tender and sore between her legs—most of the ache and discomfort had left her.

That afternoon, Malachite’s uncle had arrived to escort her back to her homeworld. Alexandrite was a complete contradiction to his nephew. The older warrior was loud, opinionated, boisterous and—for the most part—generally jovial. At least when not complaining about the oppressive heat, or fighting incessantly with her mother. For some reason the two of them had locked horns from day one and refused to get along or agree, on any subject—except to pester her on how she should have written Malachite months ago with the news that she was carrying. Mina was of the silent opinion that all this petty bickering between them was all repressed sexual tension, though she didn’t dare share such thoughts aloud.

Mina had built an unexpected but quickly cherished kinship with Alexandrite, the older man having become much like a blustering, over-protective uncle. She had pleaded with him not to tell his nephew about her pregnancy after it became common knowledge and—beyond all believability—he’d actually agreed. Mina suspected it was because the old warrior had developed a big soft spot for her, especially after sharing with her the story of his now deceased wife and daughter—who would’ve been the same age as her if she’d survived the Youma attack that had killed them. Alexandrite had agreed not to betray her secret when she’d begged him not to, saying instead that it was a mother’s place to tell the soon-to-be father of their child. Yet that didn’t stop him from admonishing her often on how much she needed to get over herself and her irrational fears and do so.

She couldn’t say precisely what it was that had stilled her hand. Mina had started to write that letter a hundred thousand times over these past four months, yet it never seemed to come out right. It wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to tell Malachite about the baby, just that—for the life of her—she couldn’t seem to figure out _how_.

As if sensing her distress, Zaire suddenly lifted his great head and turned to her with those piercing glacier blue eyes, letting out a soft rumble of worry. Mina had been absolutely terrified of the huge beast when he’d first arrived from Earth. He was all snow white, with only a thin bit of light brown stripes on his hindquarters and tail. His great head more than reached her waist when standing at her side—at least four feet tall—and from shoulder to rump the massive cat had to be at least ten feet long, his thick tail adding an extra four. Four huge fangs as big as her hand rested inside his jaws, his paws massive and each tipped in deadly claws beneath his thick fur. Not to mention the fact that the cat had to weigh in excess of 700 pounds. Imagine! A monstrous predator such as this, kept for a pet?! Zaire had been the first of many things that Alexandrite and her mother had fought over. Psyche had insisted he take the beast back to wherever it is it had come from, and Alexandrite had told her frankly that if _she_ wanted to get rid of the King’s pet, she could damn well do it herself and then be the one to tell Malachite afterward. Her mother had grudgingly backed down at that.

Mina remembered how Zaire had turned to her then with those big blue eyes and then ambled right up to her. She started to shriek a little in fright at that but he kept on coming, unfazed. The massive beast had butted her gently in the thigh with his great head, then put himself at her side and had so far refused to leave it for the past four months whole. Zaire followed her everywhere—even put himself in her bed and slept with her at night—growling menacingly at anyone who attempted to get too close to her other than Alexandrite, her mother and the other girls that is. It wasn’t long before Mina’s fear had completely left her, replaced instead by a mixture of deep affection liberally laced with exasperation. He tended to be a bit of a bed hog.

She reached out to him now to soothe him, her slender fingers burying into his soft, thick fur at the top of his head. He pushed himself into the caress, ice-colored eyes closing slightly with pleasure before heaving a sigh and lowering himself back to the floor for his nap. So their master was to return to them soon. Mina gazed pensively off into space, rubbing the ache from her stomach with slow, gentle circles. Malachite would find out that he was going to be a father then, sooner or later. Whether she was ready to tell him so or not.

 

* * *

Lita at once felt an upsurge of emotion at Serenity’s words—shock, fear, anxiety, a heated yearning. All of them immediately made her brows furrow and her eyes narrow in annoyance, especially the last. She absolutely refused to allow herself to be cowed by that man.

Nephrite was too arrogant by half. So self-assured of his ability to control her through her strange, overpowering reaction to his body. Lita scowled, her fist clenching. Well, he’d find that she wasn’t near so easy to conquer when he returned. The experience had just been too new, that first time. She had been thrown out of sorts, staggered by the unexpected and suffered a brief bit of weakness because of it. Lita just hadn’t been ready for how good he would make her feel, is all, getting lost into the excitement of the moment.

Not so, now.

 _‘Sorry love, not dead yet.’_ Lita scoffed silently, in thinking of his contemptuous message a few weeks ago.

 _‘A pity,’_ had been her short, snide response. He hadn’t written her back, and Lita considered it the first of many victories to come, that she had gotten the last word. Absolutely refusing to own up to the slight pinch of disappointment that had arisen when no return reply had been forthcoming.

Lita had depended on her father instead for news of the war and how it fared these past months, since Nephrite hadn’t bothered to send her anything more than that one disdainful update on his health. She had been surprised and a touch awed by their sweeping success, though from her father’s account, the true depth of the Earthlings’ amazing powers left little doubt in his mind what the eventual outcome would be. She was even more surprised by her father’s increasingly affectionate manner concerning his new son-in-law, and perhaps even a little jealous and betrayed as well.

It seemed Theseus was more concerned with the fact that Nephrite was a great warrior and a capable enough leader to rule their Kingdom, and less with how much Lita herself didn’t want him for a mate _or_ a King. She bit her lip now, to keep the tears from forming. Hadn’t it been this way all her life? Lita had been fighting a losing struggle from the age of seven to try and please her father, yet she never seemed to be able to do it, no matter how hard she tried.

She didn’t remember much of her mother or her little brother Aden, as she’d only been seven when they’d died. Only the soft song her mother used to hum to her to help her sleep, or her brother’s precocious red curls and laughing brown eyes as they played.

But what she did remember quite vividly was her father’s ravaged grief after the bodies had been found, and the hoarse words that she’d overheard from him after. She had been ducked down into a hidey-hole, largely forgotten in the chaos and sorrow that had arisen from the Queen and young Prince’s sudden and tragic deaths.

 _“I know nothing of caring for girls,”_ he had heaved, sounding so tired and sad it had brought tears to her eyes, “ _Gods, what am I going to do with her, now that I am alone?”_

Lita had known then that she was somehow lacking, that something was wrong with her. If her father couldn’t love her because she was a girl, then who else would? So from that day on she had done her ultimate best to become the greatest and strongest warrior she possibly could. If she couldn’t please her father by being a girl, then she’d act like a boy instead. Theseus had been too distant at first in his grief to notice, then amused by her behavior. That amusement had turned into exasperation in later years, as Lita began challenging warriors much bigger and stronger than her that dared to gainsay her—and beating them soundly, what’s worse.

On Jupiter it was nearly unheard of for a woman to be a fighter, let alone succeed so well at it. Theirs was a very male-driven society, where a woman’s place was in the home, not on the field of battle. Their men tended to be a lot larger and physically powerful after all—on average six and a half to seven feet tall and naturally rippling with muscle—as if bred for war. A woman could take up arms in the defense of her home or her children if alone—as many could and _did_ —but none were full-on warriors. There were no others quite like her at home. Lita had become an oddity because of it, either whispered about with amusement and scorn, or outright shunned. And somehow over the years she had convinced herself that she didn’t care.

And now this? Lita stiffened her spine, though, determined. Her father might believe that he’d found a replacement for the son he had lost so long ago, but that didn’t mean that _she_ had to welcome the bastard into her bed. Let him posture and preen in his newfound power, just so long as he kept it well away from her!

 

* * *

Ami nodded to Serenity’s announcement, not surprised in the least, as she had known this already herself. She and Zoisite had kept up a steady communication these past months. He had kept her informed of all that was taking place on the front lines while she in turn had begun tutoring him on the politics and customs of her home planet, and anything else he would need to learn to become an effective leader of her technological Kingdom. Thus far the Earthling was proving to be a very apt student, and an extremely quick learner—more than a match for any of the higher minds of her planet.

Meanwhile Ami did her best to take charge in his absence, assuming her new role as Queen with as much aplomb as she could manage, with her father’s help of course. Though, Hector had always been an inventor at heart and—especially now that he was no longer King—he could be found more and more often than not locked in his workroom tinkering with some new creation or other. Ami’s days were busy and sometimes hectic, but rewarding, and she didn’t mind the extra responsibility at all.

And at night, many times the Queen would lie awake for long hours, unable to sleep for remembering the way he had made her feel.

Ami had been properly terrified at first, and then completely confused when Zoisite had seemed to dismiss her and the idea of consummating the marriage so completely. He even ordered her to sleep. Yet thinking that he had perhaps decided to let them get to know each other a little better before they became intimate, Ami was eternally grateful and eager to comply, her relief immense. Little had she known at the time that leaving her alone had been the farthest thing from his mind. She had been slow to realize just what was happening at first, deeply asleep, lost into a dream of warmth and strange, lustful sensations that she’d never felt before. And then she had awakened to find him upon her, his touch infinitely gentle and assured, and that more than anything had calmed her again after the shock wore off.

And then! The things that Zoisite had done! Ami had never dreamt that laying with a man could be so . . . nice. And that was putting it mildly.

Yet in the morning he was gone, without a word of goodbye. The soft and tender feelings that had prompted her to cuddle into his warmth the night before had died a swift, cold death, then. Ami had been brought back to reality with a cruel jolt. While Zoisite had been gentle and had gone out of his way to pleasure her—something she was and would continue to be very grateful for—what had happened that night had been a duty, only. Their marriage was a union of convenience, not emotion. She had to remember that.

The normally very rational and cool-headed Queen was genuinely surprised at how very hard that seemed to be to accomplish, though, her heart and mind assailed with confusing thoughts and feelings whenever she’d allow herself a break from her hectic schedule to think of him. Now with Zoisite soon to return, she could only pray that she wouldn’t end up making a complete fool of herself in the days to come. There was nothing more pathetic than to pine after someone who would never love you in return, let alone the dangers that such reckless feelings could create. Hadn’t she preached to him the necessity for lack of trivial affection in a marriage as important as theirs? Where was her cool resolve now, Ami wondered listlessly.

 

* * *

Raye scowled, clenching her teeth and her fists at that unexpected announcement. So, the bastard would soon be returning. For a moment the young Queen of Mars fought with herself, trying to figure out just how that really made her feel.

Remembering her ill-fated wedding night still made her blush, nearly five months later. And Raye absolutely refused to feel guilty for what she had said to Jadeite afterward. So what if he’d been true to his word, and proven her fears ungrounded? There was no pain from laying with him, as she’d been so afraid of; no violent tears or hoarse screams, no suffocating terror threatening to drown her away. The shadowy horror that had been ingrained for so long in her subconscious clashed instead with new images of heat and want, urgent touches and powerful caresses, and a need that burned her like silken fire.

And Raye had been perfectly within her rights to be upset with the brute afterward for manipulating her as he had. While he hadn’t actually controlled her as she’d first accused, Jadeite had still forced her to his will by altering her mind, ignoring her protests—hysterical or not. While she might have understood on an intellectual level his need to do so, her wounded feelings—far more tender than she would ever let on—refused to accept it.

Yet she could still see Jadeite’s face so clearly, after she’d screamed at him not to touch her. The softness that had been staring down at her was completely chased out of his blue eyes, replaced with hurt and a strange vulnerability, then disgust—in himself. Raye had felt his complete withdrawal from her mind then like a physical ache, stunned down into her toes by it and the pinch of regret that immediately assailed her. And then Jadeite had apologized to her, stunning her further, and sworn that he wouldn’t ever force her again. His normally warm and light-hearted voice had been so cold then, and empty, almost listless. It had been as if she had completely broken something in him, which was so utterly absurd. What or how could she have possibly hurt the man so much, when they were barely more than strangers?

Then Jadeite had left, and by morning Raye had managed to shake free of her confused feelings and latched onto her indignant anger again instead, almost like a lifeline. The budding Queen managed to ignore her mother’s softly accusing, disappointed stare somehow and instead threw herself into her new duties to try and fill the hours of the day with something other than brooding on her exasperating husband.

When his letters started coming in with her father’s, Raye tossed them negligently into a drawer unopened and ignored them. At least until nightfall, when her curiosity became absolutely maddening and she sat alone in her bed in the middle of the night and read them privately. In them Jadeite wrote to her about the war and the battles he fought, blunt but truthful, never sugar-coating the sometimes brutal truth of it, not bothering with trying to coddle her like her father always did. He also shared with her more personal things in his letters as well, all of his thoughts and feelings about what was happening around him, about her father and of the Martian soldiers that had joined him. He had told her how surprised he’d been by their acceptance of him, and how touched he was at the deep loyalty that they began to show as the months wore on. He also wrote of the many talks that he and her father had, and of their plans for the future of the Kingdom in the aftermath of the war. Jadeite seemed to write about everything and anything that passed through his head, incessant. He wrote more than a _woman._

Yet Raye couldn’t keep herself from reading them. She never replied of course, only sent short messages to her father on occasion. She wasn’t one for writing letters, after all, and to send one to him would probably give the exasperating jerk the wrong impression. He might have won over her parents somehow and their warriors, but Raye had yet to be convinced. And until that day came to pass, she wouldn’t be going out of her way to do him any favors.


	17. Homecoming - Endymion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter titles, so inspired. :P /sarcasm

_“The war is over! The King has returned!”_

Serenity gasped a few days later, jerking straight at that sudden and unexpected announcement. Endymion was back? Already? Serenity turned to lock eyes with Diana, who shared the expression of shock that was undoubtedly on her own face. The nameless warrior continued on, excitedly spreading his news through the halls of the palace. Serenity hesitated only a moment before she forced herself to get to her feet.

“Do I look alright?” she questioned of her Mauian companion, nervously lifting a hand to her customary bun-tails, now offset by the delicate tiara of a Queen. Then she dropped her eyes down to her gown, a simple peach-colored affair meant more for comfort than impressing one’s husband. Diana just smiled reassuringly however.

“You look wonderful, as usual,” was the Mauian’s solemn reply, making Serenity smile a little and relieving some of her tension.

Serenity turned from the atrium then, where she’d been sitting enjoying the afternoon sun and a small break from her never-ending lessons, and hurried off for the transporter. Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest, those pesky butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach threatening to send it right up her throat from nervous anticipation. What would he do when he saw her? What would he look like after these many months apart? Would he be as handsome as she remembered, or was her mind playing tricks on her? Had he missed her at all while he was away?

These and other questions raced through her head as she finally stepped into the massive chamber. It was to find her mother already present, as well as Luna and Artemis, greeting a tall form garbed from head to toe in black armor. A figure she well knew.

“The Negaverse has been beaten back for now,” Endymion was assuring them, his deep voice as strong and powerful as the one she remembered. Not noticing her presence, he continued, “Pluto and Saturn have both been restored for the most part, and though the Youma are not completely eradicated, what few pockets remain are unable to mount any kind of concerted strike.”

“You don’t sound very triumphant,” Artemis pointed out after a moment, tone cautious. That caused Endymion to smile a little, face pained.

“A few cryptic words from a Time Priestess and your own niggling self-doubts will do that to a man, I’m afraid. We are safe for now, yet I’ve been cautioned to see well to our defenses in the event of another strike. The other planets have been advised to do the same. I would see what can be done to bolster the protections here on Lunara before I leave for home.”

“Leave?” she parroted loudly, in her shock forgetting that she was supposed to be listening covertly. The other three turned to her in surprise and Serenity jerked a little, then blushed in embarrassment at having been caught eavesdropping. Yet she lifted her eyes to her husband, swallowing a little when his face gave very little away of his reaction—just as before.

“After I have seen to the defenses here on Lunara, we will both be leaving for Earth,” he clarified for her after a slight moment of pause. Serenity felt her eyes widen in shock.

She hadn’t even considered that possibility, which was probably naïve in the extreme. “I . . . but, I . . . thought . . . you were going to live here,” she fumbled, thrown out of sorts in her startle. “The Alliance is here, after all.” Endymion’s expression hardened.

“My place is on my own planet, in my own Kingdom. I appointed your mother as High Chancellor for a reason, so that I wouldn’t haveto remain here all the time.”

The soft censure in his voice for her naiveté made her flinch.

“How long before you expect to leave?” The elder Serenity questioned, not looking any more pleased with the prospect of her daughter leaving than she was, yet able to hide it far better than the younger Queen managed to. Endymion didn’t turn away from her, however, keeping his gaze locked with her own as he replied,

“It shouldn’t take more than the rest of the afternoon to see to what needs be.”

Serenity just gasped. “So soon? But . . . can’t we wait—,”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, expression hard. “I suggest you begin packing your things.”

Serenity just stared at him for a moment longer, then abruptly turned on her heel and hurried back out of the transporter room before he saw her expression crumple, not wanting him to see her cry. She was jogging by the time she reached her room, throwing the door open without preamble before collapsing onto the foot of her bed with a sob.

Diana, who had been waiting for her return, just gaped and blinked in shock.

“Whatever’s the matter?” the silver-haired changeling demanded incredulously.

“Endymion is—making me—leave,” she cried between gasps for air. Diana winced.

“You both are to live on Earth then?” Serenity could only nod, and the Mauian sighed. “I had suspected as much. He would want to stay with his home country, wouldn’t he, as he’s the only living heir left?”

“But . . . he wouldn’t even listen to me when I tried to ask if we could wait,” she whimpered. “Just for a little while. He was so . . . so _mean._ Telling me we have to leave by this afternoon, and to go get packed!” Now she scowled, petulant anger replacing her hurt. “As if I were a common maid!” Diana came to sit with her on the bed.

“Perhaps he’s just over-tired?” the changeling tried hopefully. “He has been at steady war for nearly five months now, Sere. Maybe he didn’t necessarily mean to be so short with you. I’m sure the man has to be completely exhausted.”

Serenity frowned, unwillingly conceding that fact. She supposed that was a good possibility. But still! “I don’t want to leave Lunara,” she whispered then, lips trembling. “I won’t ever get to see mother, or Luna and Artemis.”

“Of course you will!” Diana insisted, snorting. She gave her friend an exasperated smile when the blonde lifted up enough to look at her. “Earth might be a little medieval compared to what we are used to, but they still have communicators and transporters. I doubt the King will forbid you to contact your mother. No doubt you will be able to speak to her whenever you wish, and visit as well, whenever there’s time.” Diana reached out to wipe away a tear then. “Moving away to Earth isn’t the end of the world, Sere. Think of it as an adventure.” The young Queen made a disbelieving face and Diana chuckled. “I know full well you’re absolutely mad with curiosity about that planet, there’s no use trying to deny it to me. I heard you bugging little Helios incessantly about every little detail when he visited last month.”

Serenity turned sheepish at that, then sighed heavily. She _was_ rabid with curiosity concerning Earth and their mysterious ways. Everything just seemed to be so different there than what she was used to, relatively sheltered here at home. Serenity had pestered poor Helios quite thoroughly when the young High Priest had come to visit here a few weeks back. Luckily the kind boy hadn’t minded chatting with her for a while. Yet all too soon Serenity was forced to leave him alone to his original purpose, which had surprisingly been a luncheon meeting with the solemn Queen of Saturn. Serenity had wondered at that—and at the almost shy pink color that stained Hotaru’s pale cheeks when Helios had noticed her standing there and smiled—but eventually she had left them to their own devices with a secretive smile. She did enjoy a good romance, after all.

Serenity finally got up out of the bed and dried her face at Diana’s urging. There was no use crying over something she couldn’t change. Better to just stand up and get it over with. Serenity called in several other maids to help her and the Mauian begin on the arduous task of getting packed and ready to leave. The bulk of her things could be brought over later she supposed, but Serenity wanted to make sure she had all of her essentials. A few hours later, when a guard came to inform her that Endymion was waiting for her, Serenity felt fairly prepared for it. She swept out of the room, Diana trailing after her, with the maids left to gather what had been packed and follow them.

Endymion stood off to the side silently while Serenity said her goodbyes, hugging first Luna and Artemis, then her mother. The older woman had a glimmer of what might have been tears in her eyes, but otherwise refused to let it show. She hugged her daughter tightly, murmured that she would contact her soon to make sure she had settled well, then gently pushed a-now-teary-eyed Serenity back and toward the transporter. Diana gave her goodbye hugs as well, then Serenity turned and marched resolutely toward the transporter. She lifted her chin, refusing to look at him directly as she came to stand near.

“Did you pack your entire room?” he questioned when she did so, causing Serenity to gasp, and turn to pin him with an indignant glare. Yet she was thrown off a little by his small, playful smirk. Endymion nodded his head toward the herd of maids that had followed. “It certainly looks that way.”

“I only packed my essentials,” she bit out somewhat petulantly. “The rest of my things can be brought over later.”

“All that is just ‘essentials?’ Gods save me,” he groaned then. “I may not have the room to house you.”

It took her a moment to realize he was teasing her. Serenity flushed, turning away, unsure whether she wanted to be angry or flustered by it. Perhaps Diana had been right, and fatigue had been the reason why he’d been so short with her earlier. And perhaps this little show of light-hearted humor was his way of trying to soothe her?

Endymion said nothing else to clue her in, merely turned and headed back for the transporter. Serenity took a bracing breath before she followed. It felt almost as if walking through a dream, the surrounding atmosphere heavier than air but lighter than water, a strange and surreal in-between. A kaleidoscope of color burst around her, and then suddenly Serenity was standing in the center of the rose-bush forest she’d seen when Endymion had first arrived.

The young Queen gasped, eyes rounding with shock, her senses nearly overwhelmed by the explosion of color around her. Lunara had no natural vegetation, only man-made wonders that were—according to others—exquisite in their own right. But for someone who had grown up around them all their life, the towering crystal spires and silver turrets weren’t near so amazing as the brilliantly blue sky dotted with fat white clouds above, the painfully green bushes and trees that surrounded her, the delicate bloom of a perfect ruby red rose, or the curious little flying creatures currently hovering near them.

“What are those?” she eagerly demanded of Endymion beside her, motioning to the tiny things and completely forgetting that she was supposed to be annoyed with him in the face of her curiosity. He chuckled.

“Those are bees. They’re insects, they feed off the pollen that the roses make. Don’t get too close,” he admonished, catching her elbow before she took more than one step in that direction. She turned back with a blink, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile to soften the sharpness of his tone. “Bees will attack you and sting, especially if they feel threatened. Best not to bother them.”

“Can I go see the flowers, Endymion?” she questioned, but he sighed.

“Later, I’ll bring you back so you can explore,” Endymion promised softly, “but not now.” For the first time Serenity caught a hint of bone-deep weariness in his tone and expression. He really _was_ as tired as Diana had suspected.

Suddenly feeling guilty for pestering him like a child, Serenity forced herself to hush and stay quiet for the duration. Instead she contented herself with inspecting everything around her silently as Endymion led their procession out of the garden and into the massive golden-stoned castle beyond. So engrossed was she with her surroundings that Serenity never noticed all the wide-eyed, gaping stares of the surrounding Earthlings that she drew—with her obviously foreign and exotic Lunaran colorings—nor of the amused, affectionate smile of the man beside her.

Endymion didn’t think he’d ever seen anything half so precious as Serenity was right now as he led her into his home, craning her neck this way and that, blue eyes wide and unblinking in an attempt to see everything all at once. He hoped to be able to make it up to her later for his current surly disposition. Endymion had known full well that he’d caused her to cry earlier despite how hard she’d tried to hide it and—though it didn’t show outwardly—the knowledge did strange and uncomfortable things to his insides. Yet right now, five months of constant warring were taking their toll. The King wanted nothing more than to sink himself into a hot bath, and then collapse into his bed and not get out of it for at least a year.

Unfortunately he had a few more duties yet to see to before he could do so. Endymion entered the palace, and was immediately met by Helios, the captain of his palace guard—Emery—and most of the palace staff. He paused on the threshold at their roaring cheer, smiling, then lifted his hand for quiet.

“It is glad I am to finally be back on Earth,” he announced. “No matter how many wonders I have seen on the other worlds, nothing can compare to home.” There was another cheer, then he turned slightly and put a hand to the small of Serenity’s back, gently forcing the slender girl forward a little. His people eyed her curiously, some with a touch of uncertain bias, but that was to be expected. The reaction would fade with time, he was certain. “Allow me to introduce my wife, now the Queen of our Kingdom, Lady Serenity.” The return applause was more polite than anything else, but at least they gave her that.

The people of the Silver Alliance—Lunarans especially—were not exactly popular here on Earth.

Serenity held her hands before her, managing a regal nod and smile. “Thank you for welcoming me to my new home,” she called, her normally soft and child-like voice surprisingly strong. “I hope to one day come to love it here as much as I love the home I’ve left behind.”

Endymion’s fingers gave a fleeting caress to her back—all the praise he was allowed to give under so many other eyes—before he turned to Helios and Emery.

“Emery, see that our defenses are air tight. I know the work-load has been immense with the Warrior Kings no longer here. Have any replacements been decided?”

“I’ve got some prospects in mind,” was the gruff, older man’s retort. “I’ll have them on your desk for review by the morning.” Endymion nodded, then to the High Priest,

“There are many wounded to see to Helios. Take all that you need to assist you.” The young priest bowed in acceptance.

“Maltha,” he called then, the head of his palace staff. The slightly rotund woman stepped forward. “Have someone help get all of my wife’s things upstairs, and then have a bath made ready for me.”

The older woman nodded, then hesitated. “Ah, where should I have the Queen’s possessions stored, my Lord?” she questioned delicately. Endymion hesitated a split instant before answering.

“Have them put in the Queen’s Room.”

Maltha nodded, then turned on her heel and hurried off to see his orders done. Serenity waited until most of the press had dispersed and they were half-way up the large red-carpeted staircase before she softly questioned,

“Queen’s Room?”

Endymion didn’t bother answering her, instead waiting until he entered into the large double doors that led into the master bedroom. It was immense, filled with thick fur rugs and colorful tapestries to ward away the chill, a massive fireplace big enough for him to stand upright in to one side. Directly opposite it was his bed, a large four-poster draped in black and gold on a raised marble dais. Serenity had paused in the entryway, blinking in shock. Endymion merely stepped over to the side, where another door lay. He opened it, then took two steps through the small round antechamber and opened the next door, revealing a smaller but no less grand bedroom beyond.

“The Queen’s Room,” he answered finally, after she’d followed after him to see what he was about. The atmosphere within was notably more feminine than the main chamber, as this was traditionally supposed to serve as the Queen’s private chambers. Serenity stared at it for a solid minute, silent, then she turned to look up at him. Her expression was carefully schooled, but he thought he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“Is this where I am to sleep then?” she questioned, tone neutral.

That had been his original intention. It was probably best he put as much distance between them as he could, to keep from doing something he knew he was going to regret. Yet suddenly faced with the thought of it, he found himself violently rebelling the idea and scowled.

“No,” he answered firmly, taking her by the shoulder and turning her around, until she was facing the huge master bed again. “You sleep there,” he continued, voice gone husky, “with me.” Endymion watched her eyes flare a little, a hint of pink coming up in her cheeks. In an attempt to distract himself from it, he cleared his throat and sighed. “The Queen’s Room is just a place where you may go to be alone, if that is your wish,” he assured. “A space that is all your own, separate from me.”

Serenity turned back to him then, smile suddenly blinding. “That is very considerate of you,” she murmured, looking surprised and delighted all at once.

Endymion was glad for the door suddenly opening, and the interruption of an army of servants. Some went about settling the massive amount of belongings that Serenity had managed to pack in only three hours time, others came to assist him in getting out of his battle-worn armor and more still began setting up the massive copper tub for his bath. Serenity stood off to the side and conversed softly with her companion, Diana, through most of it. Once Endymion’s bath had been properly prepared, and when the last of the servants had been chased away, the silver-haired changeling departed as well, shutting the door behind her.

For the moment completely ensorcelled by the temptation of fresh hot water, Endymion completely forgot about Serenity and eagerly stripped out of his grimy battle leathers. Then he slipped into the steaming tub with a loud sigh and a pained groan of pleasure. Immediately much of the tension eased from his sore muscles, allowing him to relax for the first time in what felt like years.

It wasn’t until several minutes later—after he’d finished washing all the dried blood and grime from his body—that he finally noticed Serenity again. Endymion paused in his washing, his eye having been caught by a flash of peach. He saw his slender wife hovering on the edge of the room, red faced, pretending to be very engrossed in the tapestry she was facing. Pretending not to be sneaking glances at him naked in the tub every so often and failing miserably.

All fatigue suddenly forgotten, Endymion felt a rush of hot wanting suddenly roar all through his veins. Stars, how many nights had he lain alone on the battlefield staring up at the vast skies, hard and aching for her? When the roar and fury of the battle had left him, lost in the moments of quiet stillness between the fighting, he would lay there and dream of her. Endlessly taunted with images and memories of their one night together; remembering her pale winter-blue eyes, remembering the feel of her silky silver-gold hair curling around his fingers, the satin soft texture of her bare skin against his own. Remembering the way she arched so sweetly against him with her need, remembering the sound of her soft voice whimpering his name. Every pant and sigh of breath, every moan and cry of pleasure. Serenity had become like a phantom in his mind, always tempting him to return.

And now after months of frustrated and unfulfilled desire, here she was, well within his grasp. Endymion should resist it, and her. Wanting her so fiercely was dangerous. Yet for now, with nothing and no one else to distract him, he couldn’t seem to summon the will to do so.

Instead Endymion smirked slightly as a perfectly devious plan formed in his head—one that would’ve done Jorowyn proud—before he cleared his throat, wiped his expression clean and then put it into motion.

“Serenity,” he called, causing her to start violently and wrench more fully in the direction of the wall she faced. Her back was ramrod straight, arms tight at her sides with mortification at having been caught looking at him.

“Y-yes?” she stammered.

“I can’t quite reach the center of my back,” Endymion announced sweetly, his tone and expression the epitome of innocence. “As all the servants have left, do you think you could come over here and help me?”

He watched her fight with her timidity for a solid minute before she finally forced herself to turn around and face him. Her face was a bright pink now with embarrassment, and though she still looked uncomfortable, Serenity slowly crept forward just the same. Endymion sat perfectly nonplussed in the bath until she finally came within arm’s reach.

“What . . . how do you want me to help you exactly?” she questioned then, staring hard at his face and nowhere else. Endymion let a wicked grin form, then.

“Like this.”

Serenity let out a loud shriek when he leaned forward, wrapped one powerful arm around her waist and then tugged her down into the tub with him. Endymion pulled her to his side and then half-leaned over her, putting the stunned Queen on her back and into the water up to her chest. Immediately the thin fabric of her dress soaked completely through, clinging to her curves and further bedeviling him. Serenity didn’t move from where she landed, her entire little body stiff with shock beneath him, eyes wide with disbelief.

When he suddenly bent to her, his mouth brushing a fleeting caress to her lips, she tensed up even more. “What-what are you . . . what are you doing?” she fumbled, sounding spooked and looking it too.

“Seducing my wife,” he growled into her throat, an instant before he nipped her there, causing her to jump a little with a gasp.

Yet when Endymion suddenly caught her by the waist and pulled her closer, she didn’t fight him. Her pale cheeks had gone pink again, but for a different reason than chagrin as the slender female tentatively put her tiny hands on his shoulders, and then one thigh lifted to cradle his hips. He was lost then, swooping completely to capture her lips with his, tongue burying deep into her mouth with a tortured groan. All thoughts of steeling himself against her were forgotten for now, lost in the face of her sweet surrender.


	18. Homecoming - Malachite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Chapter title, sheer ingenuity.

Malachite stepped through the transporter gate after it had been keyed to the planet of Venus and—as soon as he came through the other side—he jerked to a halt, immediately feeling as though he’d just stepped into a furnace. Thick and muggy, the oppressive heat threatened to steal his very breath, making him gasp. He had been born in the frozen wastes of the North Lands. He was used to ice and snow, and bitterly frigid winters.

Stars, he was never going to survive this.

“I told you it was suffocating,” a familiar voice called from his left, liberally laced with a mixture of disgruntlement and humor. Malachite turned to see his uncle approach, and received another shock at seeing the staunch warrior dressed—not in the leather and armor that Malachite had ever seen him wear in the past—but in airy white and blue cloth. The top was clasped over one of his broad shoulders with a metal fastening, a long tail of fabric falling back behind him, the rest leaving all of the other arm and much of one side of his still powerfully built chest bare. The bottoms were airy cotton pants of a sort, his feet covered only in a pair of thin sandals. The older man made a face at Malachite’s disbelieving look, then scowled.

“I don’t wear these damned frilly things by choice. Yet _you_ try and strut about in your full leathers for a while, lad, and we’ll just see how long it takes you to concede. You’ll suffocate first.”

Malachite snorted, though inwardly he didn’t doubt it. Only a few minutes here, and already he could feel a trickle of sweat rolling down his spine beneath his heavy armor. Yet he suddenly became aware of more of his surroundings besides the sweltering sauna-like heat, and blinked in faint surprise.

There was no question that he was on a completely different world than Earth. The sky was a brilliant golden orange instead of blue, the sun much larger in the sky than what he was used to. The thick vegetation that surrounded him beyond the intricate stone pathway he currently stood on was of a more teal blue than green, intermixed with random splashes of pink, violet or blue colored blossoms that he didn’t recognize. And alien creatures suddenly winged overhead—what might have been a strange colorful cross between a bird and a lizard—screeching and screaming their passage across the burning ochre sky.

“The oddness takes some getting used to,” Alexandrite chuckled after a moment of Malachite’s wide-eyed stare, guessing the direction of his nephew’s thoughts. “I might have been okay except for the yellow sky. Damned unsettling, I still can’t seem to get used to it, even five months later.”

Malachite nodded, and would’ve responded, yet at that moment a group of three women suddenly strolled past. Each one was painfully pretty, and not a one wearing a stitch of clothing above the waist and not much more than a transparent bit of colorful gauze below it. Despite his iron-clad control, Malachite felt his eyes bulge at the unexpected display. The females saw the gold armband of his new station and immediately stopped to bow respectfully to him, eying him curiously at the same time. Malachite was still so dumbfounded that all he could do was just stand there gaping like a moron. The women noticed his stupor then and giggled to each other at his expense before turning to continue on their way, more than one shooting a flirtatious look over her shoulder as they left.

Alexandrite cleared his throat, now caught between amusement and pity. “Ah, that takes some getting used to as well.”

Malachite shook himself out of his shock and scowled, hopefully steeling himself against any more embarrassing surprises. The Warrior King shifted his armor with a jerk, his face wiping clean of all emotion before motioning to his Uncle to lead the way. Alexandrite sighed slightly at the return of what he called his ‘blank face,’ but turned to do as he’d bid.

“How goes the fortifications?” Malachite demanded. His uncle reached up to scratch absently at his short-trimmed black goatee, his dark gray eyes pensive.

“As well as can be expected, I guess. It’s a little slow going, as I’m not entirely familiar with the layout here and their soldiers are more lax and indulgent than I’m used to. That squadron of Northern warriors that decided to relocate here with us definitely helped,” Alexandrite suddenly commented, grinning.

“Our defenses have to be flawless,” Malachite advised softly, sternly. “We were warned by a Time Priestess that there are those who would take the hard-won prizes we have earned, should we fail to do so. I want no chances taken.”

“I’ll redouble my efforts in the morning, lad,” Alexandrite assured calmly, surely. “A belch won’t pass by my ranks without your knowledge, I guarantee it.”

Trusting his Uncle’s word and his abilities explicitly, Malachite merely nodded and then said nothing more on the matter.

The two warriors entered into what was the seat of the Venusian monarchy then, a massive, spacious and airy coral-colored building with many pillars and very few walls. Vaulted archways extended upward to incredible heights and long, gauzy bits of cloth hung from the ceiling, blowing restlessly in the muggy breeze.

Soon after they entered, Psyche appeared near-by—followed by a small procession of female attendants. Thankfully all of them were fully covered, if just barely. The beautiful former Queen shot his uncle a disgusted glare an instant before her face smoothed into a soft smile of welcome for him. What was even more odd was how Alexandrite’s entire body locked up with barely suppressed anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

Malachite felt his brow twitch. Apparently his Uncle and Mina’s mother didn’t get along.

“I am glad to see you’ve returned to us whole and safe, Malachite,” Psyche called, her soft, purring tone effortlessly exuding sensuality, much like her daughter. Even in mid-life the woman was intoxicating—yet with her, all Malachite felt was a general acknowledgement of her allure. Nothing like the damn-near _obsession_ he fought with from the other.

“There’s no need to lay it on so thick, woman,” Alexandrite suddenly growled from beside him, deep voice liberally laced with disgust. “Mal’s not in danger of tossing you out on your ass, though I’ve tried several times to convince him of it.”

Psyche’s fists clenched, golden eyes narrowed onto his Uncle in a look that should’ve been able to strip flesh from his bones. Malachite just blinked, confused. His uncle had told him nothing of the sort.

“Apparently common courtesy escapes you, Alexandrite,” she snapped, her voice no longer as sultry as it was before, now dripping with sarcasm. “Yet I suppose that’s not all that surprising.”

Malachite saw his uncle’s face flush and sighed, figuring he’d better step in and end this scuffle before it got any further.

“Where is Zaire,” he suddenly called, his softly spoken neutral tone cutting immediately through the others’ ire. Both turned to him, blinking. “I hope the beast isn’t dying in this heat.” Zaire too was native to the frozen tundra, not this sweltering jungle, and Malachite hoped the cat’s thick fur wasn’t proving dangerous to his health. He’d had Zaire ever since he turned eleven years old, finding him as an abandoned cub and raising the cat himself. The beast had a very special place in his heart, one Malachite cherished, and it would be a vast disappointment to have to send him back to Earth.

Neither Psyche or Alexandrite answered him, instead a new voice to his left called out, “your beast is fine, and eager to see you it would seem.”

That warm, sultry tone immediately soaked through his every pore, causing Malachite to stiffen. Gods, that voice had haunted his very dreams . . . . He braced himself, then slowly turned to face his wife after nearly five months of separation. When he took her in, however, his solemn vow not to allow anything else to visibly stun him was thrown right out the window.

His jaw dropped completely open instead.

Mina stood in the entryway dressed in a pale pink gauzy gown, the strap-like sleeves secured with metal fastenings on either shoulder, the fabric seeming to crisscross from there over breasts much fuller than he remembered, the way the fabric was arranged revealing the deepness of her new cleavage. The material gathered there, then spilled loosely over a very noticeably swollen middle and then all the way to the floor at her bare feet. He almost didn’t even notice Zaire standing protectively at her side, or her delicate hand resting gently atop his massive head. Instead his wide eyes remained glued to her distended stomach, frozen in shock, even as she slowly began gliding closer.

His wife was pregnant. _Very_ pregnant. Strange, but the possibility hadn’t even entered his mind. To be so far along, she had to have either gotten that way on their wedding night . . . or directly afterward. Malachite was so thrown out of sorts that he did something he _never_ did; opened his mouth and spoke before he’d fully thought about what was coming out of it.

“Who’s the father?”

Of course, in immediate retrospect, that had not been the smartest thing to say. Alexandrite hissed in amazement before smacking a hand over his eyes. Psyche gaped, looking a mixture between stunned and outraged.

Mina just froze two steps away from him, eyes wide and disbelieving a fraction of a second before they flooded with tears. Yet her pretty face suddenly turned an angry pink directly afterward, all an instant before her hand lashed out and cracked him right across the face. Seeing as he felt that he more than deserved it, Malachite didn’t even bother trying to avoid her. She spared herself a moment to glare at him in disgust, her little fists clenched, before the blonde turned on her heel and then marched angrily back the way she’d come without another word.

Even Zaire seemed to eye him disdainfully, huffing out a growling grunt before turning about and trailing back after his wife.

The room was silent then for several moments, broken only by the stunned tittering of Psyche’s attendants. She turned slightly and motioned, immediately shushing them, then turned back to him at his weary sigh.

“I will assume that it is the unfair shock you were just dealt and misconceptions of our culture that has made you insult my daughter, warrior,” she called, tone amazingly calm, perhaps deceptively so. He only nodded, and she sighed then. “While it is true that my people are very free with their affections otherwise, when Joined with another, we are completely monogamous with that partner. My daughter takes her vows very seriously. She has lain with no other but you. The babe is yours, Malachite,” she assured softly, then, taking pity on him.

Then the older woman turned and left after Mina, her attendants following. Malachite watched them go, then clenched his fists. Now alone with his uncle, some of his impeccable mask cracked enough to show his anger. And fear.

_Stars, a baby . . . ._

“Why did no one tell me?” he demanded after a moment, tone hoarse. Alexandrite winced, but sighed.

“I kept my silence because I had hoped that the girl would come to tell you herself. It is the mother’s place to tell a father she’s carrying his child,” he murmured softly then.

Malachite swallowed the lump that seemed permanently lodged in his throat, frowning. “And why didn’t _she_ tell me? She had five months to work up the nerve.” Alexandrite made a face, then, giving him a snide look.

“Perhaps because you do your damndest to intimidate the hell out of people, and convince them you’re nothing but a cold stone wall without any emotion?” Malachite turned to him sharply with a slight glare, but for once his uncle seemed unfazed, instead eying him with something that might have been disappointment. “Try to put yourself in her position for a moment. Barely eighteen, married to and owned by a complete stranger in less than two days time—of whom you’re convinced, by the way, hates you—left alone again before the bed sheets barely cool and then you discover after the fact that your womb is quickening with his seed. Would _you_ be eager to contact the man and give him the news?”

“She should have told me—,”

“You _terrify_ her, Malachite!” Alexandrite suddenly yelled, cutting him off. The pale-haired King stared at his uncle, somewhat stunned, as the man hadn’t dared to raise his voice to him in years. Not since he’d fully entered manhood and assumed command of the North. The older warrior just scowled at him, unrepentant. “Would it kill you to ease up a little on that hell-be-damned control of yours for _once_ in your life—,”

“You know I cannot,” he shot back, his face suddenly going cold and blank again. Alexandrite’s eyes darkened with a remembered pain, then he sighed.

“That was a long time ago, lad. Let it go. You’re not your brother.”

“Exactly,” was his clipped retort, turning on his heel then and stalking off in the direction of where he hoped his quarters would be. “I am not. Thus do I prove it so.”

 

* * *

“This is all hormones,” Psyche tried to soothe, yet causing a fresh wave of angry tears from her overly-emotional daughter instead.

“I do not—think that—my husband practically—calling me a _wh-whore_ —to my face—is an irrational—reason to be— _upset!”_ she shrieked in between sobs.

Zaire sat near-by in the alcove where she had retreated to, watching Mina’s emotional outburst with a faintly confused stare, head tilted to the side. No doubt it was because he was a big, stupid _male._ At the moment, the Queen was angry and hurt enough to take her upset out on the innocent cat as well, if for no other reason than the condemnation of his gender.

“No indeed,” her mother agreed calmly from where she sat near-by on a cushioned bench. “Yet if the baby were not causing you to overreact so, you would be able to look at the situation with a little more sympathy for _his_ point of view. While not the best you could have hoped for, Malachite’s reaction was not completely unfounded.” Mina turned to gape at her mother, her tears slowing with her shock. Psyche just shook her head sadly. “Imagine how _you_ would feel, coming home fresh from war to find your wife—whom you have only lain with one night—thick with child? Especially when the union was one that neither of you really wanted, her people are known for their loose sexuality and the woman in question never bothered to tell you of the child beforehand?”

Mina winced, turning away slightly, pinched with guilt and then annoyed that she should feel so. She wanted to be angry and upset just now, not forced to concede to her mother’s wisdom.

“He told you this?” she questioned after a moment, but Psyche shook her head.

“He didn’t have to. I could see it well enough on my own.” Mina scoffed in disbelief.

“How can you tell anything about that man?” she sneered, finally heeding her mother’s advice and coming to sit gingerly on the cushions beside her. “He is a machine,” she continued bitterly, arms crossing.

“He is a _man_ , Mina,” her mother corrected softly. “He bleeds, he breathes, he feels; just like any other. Malachite only hides it better than most. You just have to learn how to see it.” Mina eyed her suspiciously.

“And just how do _you_ see it, when I cannot?” Psyche only smiled then, in an annoyingly knowing sort of way.

“Because I am not too blinded by other things to notice,” was her cagey response. Mina started to ask her mother what she meant by that, then changed her mind with a slight roll of her eyes. When Psyche was feeling cryptic, there was no getting a straight answer out of her.

Meanwhile Zaire braved her confusing behavior enough to approach. Mina’s heart melted at the sight of the huge, dangerous creature creeping forward, head ducked down as if afraid. “Oh come here, you,” she murmured. Zaire buried his face on her lap then with a rumbling purr. Mina wrapped her arms around his huge neck, her face hiding in his soft fur for a moment.

She had to go face Malachite again, and she desperately didn’t want to. Of all the reactions Mina had played through her mind over the past months, never had she expected the one she’d gotten. Yet it had been partly her fault, as her mother had said. The young Queen sighed after several more minutes, straightening again and then getting to her feet, trying to steel her resolve.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was a wife, a Queen, and soon to be a mother. And she had duties to see to, no matter how much her cold-hearted husband scared her witless. Mina bid her mother an absent goodbye, then trailed off in search of the great hulk.

She found him in the master bedroom—what would now be their room together. Someone must have pointed him in the right direction. For a moment Malachite didn’t notice that she had entered, and in that brief time she caught a glimpse of bone-deep exhaustion etched into the features of his handsome face as he undid the last of the straps holding his plate armor to his muscled frame. Mina unwillingly felt another twinge of guilt in her chest. The poor man had just endured five months of hell fighting to protect her and her entire Kingdom, and she’d repaid that by slapping him in the face with his foot barely in the door.

Zaire—who had loped in at her side—let out a soft grunt of greeting, alerting Malachite to their presence. He turned slightly, immediately all hint of fatigue wiping clean and replaced with that horridly familiar blank mask. Yet Mina endeavored not to let herself be affected by it, instead walking more fully into the room and then over to the large sunken pool to the side that served as their bath. She pretended to be as cool and aloof as he was while she carefully crouched—mindful of her ungainly middle—reaching for the controls hidden by the foliage that surrounded the pool. She maneuvered around Zaire’s curious bulk—shoving a little ineffectually at the huge cat’s head when he butted it in her way trying to see what she was doing—adjusting the water’s temperature to a soothing heat. Then she fished out the decorative floating lilies before turning on the massaging jets.

“What are you doing?” he suddenly asked from somewhere behind her, his deep voice carefully flat, yet suspicious—as if she were planning on doing him in or something.

Exasperated, Mina straightened again and whirled to him with a glare, her shortened temper getting the best of her, hands catching onto her widened hips.

“I may not have wanted this marriage, Malachite, but it is done and over with now and I am not so childish and petty that I cannot accept that fact, and move on. As well as appreciate the incredible things you and your comrades have done for my people, for all of the Alliance.” Her eyes narrowed further. “And it it’s not such a terrible thing for a wife to see to her husband’s comfort after coming fresh from the battlefield. You’ll save us both a lot of headaches if you’d stop insisting on believing that everything that I do has a devious, ulterior motive!”

“Alright, alright,” he finally called, sounding pained and looking it too as he waved her down. He even winced a little before sighing, suddenly looking rather uncomfortable. “I apologize for questioning your intentions,” he forced out then, revealing the reason for his discomfort. She would bet a lot that Malachite wasn’t a man used to apologizing very often. “And . . . thank you,” he finally managed, tone gruff.

He turned away slightly then, reaching for the neck of his dirt-smudged leathers and pulled the clasp free. Mina watched him undress silently, enjoying the view and doing her best to ignore the heat in her cheeks because of it. Yet when he turned suddenly and showed her the broad expanse of his muscled back, she gasped in shock at seeing what looked to be a painfully deep laceration that started at one shoulder and cut diagonal down nearly to the base of his ribs on the other side. The wound was gummed shut now with dried blood, attesting to the incredible amount of time he’d borne it silently without the slightest hint of complaint.

“You’re hurt!” she accused, unconsciously taking a step toward him in concern.

He blinked at her, then shifted slightly to look over his own shoulder before shrugging with a wince. “What, that? A stray hit,” he heaved absently. “It probably looks worse than it feels.”

“It _looks_ infected,” was her testy retort, for some reason annoyed by his flippant disregard for his own health, “so I can only imagine what it feels like.” Then she sighed heavily, turning toward her bureau. “Get in the pool, and I’ll see what I can find to clean that up.”

Zaire accompanied her on her search for a few medical supplies—some gauze and some ointment to apply, to numb the pain and deaden the infection. When she returned, Malachite had stripped fully and was sunk down belly-deep into the heated pool—no doubt seated on the bench under the surface. His muscled arms were stretched across the lip—the right bicep still adorned with the gold filigree arm band of his station—and his head tilted back, face uncommonly smooth and free from tension. Mina approached him silently and carefully sat on the cushions near-by, her huge feline protector prostrating himself at her side with a loud sigh. Malachite didn’t speak either, or open his eyes, merely leaned forward a little when she touched his shoulder, giving her access to his wound.

They sat in a strangely comfortable silence then for several minutes, as Mina carefully cleaned the blood from his back and applied the water-proof ointment to the cut, being as gentle as she possibly could even though he never once flinched, or indicated any sort of discomfort throughout the entire process.

When she was finished, Mina leaned forward a little to rinse her fingers . Malachite slowly sat back, then turned a little toward her.

“So . . . the baby,” he suddenly murmured, his deep voice a little more hesitant than usual. “It fairs well?”

Mina frowned with a lingering bit of spite. “So it’s yours now?” she demanded somewhat petulantly.

That made him sigh, as if being set upon, and immediately made her feel even more childish for indulging in her moment of pettiness. Which of course only annoyed her more. Yet then he spoke in a tight mutter, “I did not mean to offend you earlier. I was only shocked . . . and . . . I know that you have no great like of me,” Malachite suddenly bit out. Mina blinked at him, but he was staring at the wall now, jaw tight. “I also know that your culture does not view sex and physical love as strictly as mine,” he continued, and surprisingly he didn’t sound offended by that as most were, merely stating a fact. When he continued, his deep rumble had become a touch softer. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn he sounded almost . . . vulnerable. In his own subtle way. “I would not have blamed you, had you strayed from me.”

Mina frowned. “I gave sacred vows,” she announced adamantly, fists clenched in her skirts. “I do not know how seriously Earthlings view a Joining, but to a Venusian they are binding. I would never lay with another, now. I cannot.” A dark thought suddenly occurred to her then, and she gasped. When she spoke again, her voice was suddenly tiny, betraying her hurt. “H-have you . . . have you lain with another woman while you were away?”

Yet Malachite snorted at that, amused. He reached for the soft soap nearby to begin scrubbing at his skin. “There’s not much time nor opportunity for bedding a woman in the middle of a battlefield,” he murmured dryly.

It didn’t exactly confirm or deny whether or not he would have done so if he were able, but Mina didn’t press him. Suddenly she was too afraid to know the answer, let alone what such a question implied. She sighed instead, her hands ghosting across her stomach.

“It’s a boy,” she announced softly, causing him to turn to her in surprise. She smiled. “And doing very well, according to the healer.”

“How is it that you know what the child will be before it’s born?” he questioned, confused. Mina blinked, having forgotten briefly that Earth didn’t have a lot of the technology that they enjoyed. She smirked.

“Mercurian scientists invented a machine—it’s all very technical and I don’t know how it works exactly—but it can look at the baby still in the womb. This way healers can check to make sure it’s growing properly without any complications, and also to tell the gender.”

Malachite just whistled low, stunned.

They lapsed back into silence again at that, with Malachite continuing to wash up and Mina silently watching him.

Hours later Malachite entered through the curtain of gauze that shielded the massive nest of pillows—what served as the bed—in preparation to lay down for sleep. He was utterly exhausted, and eager for some rest without the tension of battle on the horizon. Mina was already curled up in them, dressed in a diaphanous nightgown with her lemon colored hair splayed out to one side. Unfortunately his spot was currently being occupied by a massive feline.

“Zaire, up,” he called, in no mood for games. Yet for the first time in fourteen years, the white tiger completely ignored him. Mina just grinned sleepily.

“He’s slept with me every night since he came here,” she revealed, then yawned. “You’ll have a hard time getting him to move.”

Malachite was a little surprised to hear this, but nowhere near as shocked as he was when he neared the bed. Zaire suddenly lifted up, his lips curling back to show his deadly fangs and a low, threatening snarl left the massive cat’s chest. Malachite froze, stunned. Then he scowled, especially as Mina started giggling at his expense. Unafraid, Malachite reached down, grabbed the tiger by his jaw and forced the beast to look him in the eye.

“Don’t,” was all he snapped, voice completely flat. Man and beast shared a silent stare-down for a moment, then Malachite tried again. _“Move.”_

Zaire finally relented with a pained sigh. Sounding and looking as though he were being egregiously set upon, the large white tiger heaved himself up and then moped off the bed.

“Aw, sorry boy,” Mina called playfully. “I’ll still let you take afternoon naps with me, how’s that sound?”

Zaire just plopped down again at the foot of the bed, not looking very appeased.

Malachite grumbled a little to himself before he eased down onto the bed beside Mina, who looked to be fast on her way to falling asleep. She lay on her side, facing him, cuddling an especially large pillow to her chest with one leg thrown over it—no doubt to ease the pressure on her back from her larger middle. His gaze lingered on her stomach for a long time, lost in thought.

A baby . . . a _son._ He was going to be a father. Such a monumental concept, that. And strangely frightening. Yet . . . thrilling as well. A fierce swell of protectiveness suddenly rose in him, for this as-yet unborn creature he had created and—oddly enough—for the woman who carried him as well. With it came stone-cold determination, Malachite’s expression hardening with it.

The Plutonian Princess’s predictions be damned. No one—not man, woman or beast—would be taking anything away from him again. He had already lost too much to the cruel whims of fate. Not ever again.


	19. Homecoming - Nephrite

Nephrite gasped as he stepped through the portal and into a deluge. Theseus, at his side, just chuckled at his expense.

“Welcome to Jupiter, boy. The land of never-ending rain.”

They had arrived onto a water-slicked wooden platform high in the boughs of what looked to be _massive_ trees. Most of the pouring rain around him was kept at bay from the dense green and red foliage above him, and other man-made eaves and roofs intermixed throughout them. The sky beyond it was a roiling mass of purplish black clouds, flashing every so often with bright forks of green and white lightening separated only by the booming peals of thunder in between.

Nephrite followed Theseus as he led the way across several suspension bridges and platforms. Every one of them were carved exquisitely to look almost a part of the tree itself. At times it was hard to tell where nature ended and the man-made additions began. Several of his new people turned out to curiously watch him pass. Lita was not one of them, but then that wasn’t exactly a surprise.

The Jovian men he had come to know well in the past five months. While Nephrite was considered a tall man on Earth, most Jovian males were as tall if not several inches taller than him, and every one of them looked born and bred for battle. What surprised him the most, now however, were the Jovian women. He had half-expected them to be like Lita, warrior-women with hard eyes and fierce tempers. Yet every one that he saw seemed to exude femininity instead, soft and delicate in appearance and much smaller than their men—though still taller on average than an Earthling woman. Rather than leather and armor, they wore thin bits of pretty—in some cases rather revealing—water-proof material gowns, their hair generally worn long and loose and adorned with jewelry that reflected a common nature motif. And not a one of them stood alone, each with one male or another near-by, whether it be her mate or a family member. Theseus had mentioned off-handedly once that no woman on his planet—except his infuriating daughter—was allowed out in public without a male escort at her side.

The dangers of Jupiter were vast, after all, and not many of the females had the strength or knowledge to protect themselves. Thus was the law in place for their own protection.

Nephrite was led into a larger structure than most, the entrance opening up into a massive receiving hall braced with huge carved pillars and a vaulted ceiling that was made half of wood and half of natural tree limbs and leaves.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns!” Nephrite turned and smirked slightly as his First—Wolframite—approached from the side. The younger man was deceptively thin and willowy in build, with a wild shock of ruby-red hair and sharp blue eyes.

Theseus excused himself after Wolf neared, leaving to go partake in a bath and some much-needed rest. Nephrite was forced to wait on his own comfort as he accepted Wolframite’s reports of the past months as well as going over plans for the increased defenses. He was also party to a few bemused tales concerning his wife.

“The Queen is a stubborn wench, I will give her that,” Wolf announced, half amused and half exasperated. “She insists on taking part in the patrols, ignoring my opinion on the matter entirely. When I told her that I spoke for you, she laughed in my face. Any attempts I’ve made to have her restrained have resulted in her pulling rank on them or challenging the warriors outright.”

Incensed, Nephrite merely scowled. “I’ll take care of it,” was all he would allow, causing Wolf to grin.

“Oh I’ve no doubt of it. I look forward to the explosion.”

A few minutes later, Nephrite left to go in search of Lita. He took several calming breaths while he did so, telling himself over and over that he was going to be calm and reasonable about this. He wasn’t going to let her upset him. They would somehow manage to talk to each other like normal, rational adults—not keep bickering and squabbling like children. For once, Nephrite attempted to ignore the niggle of his own impeccable instincts in the back of his mind that told him a quite different story.

He took the directions of a couple of guards as to where his wife was currently keeping herself. He stepped into a large public mess-hall of sorts, and immediately his eyes turned to the large group all ringing around some sort of commotion, hooting and hollering with excitement. Nephrite felt his eyes narrow, somehow just _knowing_ that Lita was in the middle of this. Sure enough, after he stepped up and pushed his way to the front, Nephrite gaped at the sight of his wife crouching down in front of what had to be the biggest man he’d ever seen in his life. The warrior was a monster, he had to be at least three times her size. He’d even make _Malachite_ seem small in comparison.

“Take it back, Minos!” Lita demanded in a seething hiss. Minos just chuckled, massive arms crossed over his gargantuan chest and utterly unafraid.

“I will not amend my words,” he announced haughtily, “when I have spoken nothing but truth.”

“Then consider yourself challenged,” she snarled. And before Nephrite could find his voice to try and stop this debacle, Lita rushed forward to attack. Minos blocked her swings, not effortlessly but easily enough. And then Nephrite’s heart stuttered when the huge man suddenly lashed out and caught her with a back-hand right across the face.

Lita tumbled back with a pained cry, hitting the ground in a heap. When she lifted up, blood seeped freely down the side of her face from a cut above her eyebrow.

Letting out an enraged bellow, Nephrite leapt forward. Before Minos even had a chance to figure out what was going on, the King had the huge warrior laid out flat and slammed his boot hard into his throat, choking him. Minos stared up at him, startled, face turning red from lack of oxygen, futilely gripping the boot now crushing his windpipe.

“If you _ever_ lay your hands on my woman again,” he hissed, “I will _kill_ you outright! Am I understood?!” Minos choked, then nodded as best he could. Nephrite looked up to sweep his icy gaze around the crowd that had gathered, now subdued. “That goes for the rest of you as well!” he snapped. “She’s your _Queen_ for Star’s sake! _Act_ like it!”

Nephrite and the others turned at the noise of disgust that suddenly let out. Lita had regained her feet, and pinned her husband with a narrow-eyed glare of little-hidden disgust.

“I don’t _need_ your help!” she spat, then spun on her heel and stalked off. Nephrite just blinked after her, flabbergasted, then his eyes narrowed again and he growled low.

_Damn that infuriating female!_

He released Minos—who immediately curled in upon himself, coughing and sputtering—and then took off after his wife.

“Lita!” he yelled, yet she ignored him and continued stomping off away from him. The King was forced to jog to catch up, then grabbed her arm and made her halt. When she spun back to him, green eyes flashing, Nephrite was unfazed by their fury. His own was hot enough to match it.

“Just what in the hell is your problem?!” he demanded scathingly.

“My _problem,”_ she sneered, yanking her arm out of his grasp, “is that you just made me look like a damned fool in front of a hundred warriors!”

“What, by keeping that behemoth from pounding you into the dirt?!”

“I could have taken Minos,” she insisted in a bitter mutter, yet Nephrite heard the false bravado for what it was, especially as she reached up at that moment and gingerly fingered her wound. Lita had known damn well she couldn’t win against the other warrior, yet she’d challenged him anyway. What, did she have a death wish or something, or was she really that reckless with her own safety?

“Just what did you think you were doing, challenging him in the first place?” Nephrite demanded then. She scowled again, sneering.

“He insulted my honor, not that I expect _you_ to understand that concept.” Nephrite just frowned.

“No more challenges,” he announced firmly, then. “If someone insults you, then you tell me and _I’ll_ handle it.”

Lita gaped, infuriated. “You can’t do that!”

“Like hell I can!” he shot back. “These men are three times your size, dammit! If they get out of hand and forget even for an instant what they’re doing, they could easily _kill_ you!”

Her fists clenched, teeth gnashing, not having been at all impressed with his assessment as to the danger of her foolishness. Nephrite felt an answering spark of hot aggression burn through his blood, tempered with a surge of inopportune lust.

What _was_ it about this woman that brought out all the worst cave-man instincts in him?

“If you want to challenge someone so badly,” he growled at length, “then you can damn well challenge me!”

Apparently Lita was angry enough to forget how easily he beat her the last time, and charged him with a snarl. Nephrite blocked her fury of blows, glad for the moment that they were apparently being left alone in this small alcove that he’d followed her to. He’d rather not have an audience for this. He knew Lita had her pride. He didn’t _want_ to take it from her. Nephrite didn’t _want_ to hurt her. Yet he would see to her safety, by Gods, whether she liked it or not.

As before, he purposefully put himself on full defensive and let her work out that burning frustration that was eating her up. Yet the Jovian King had also just come from five months of hell, and he was tired enough that a little of his guard was dropped. It was just enough for Lita to slip through, ducking under one arm and then catching him across the face with a vicious left hook.

Both of them froze in shock immediately after.

Lita stared up at him, eyes wide, and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear he saw a flash of startled remorse in those stormy emerald orbs.

Nephrite was moving again a split instant later. A low sweep of his boot knocked her legs out from underneath her. Before she could hit the ground he caught her in one arm, then had her laid out flat on the wet wooden planks beneath them. He caught both of her wrists in one hand, pulling them up high and pinning them to the floor. Nephrite settled his full weight on top of her when she tried to kick to get free, barely giving her enough room to breathe. He grit his teeth at the way her breasts flattened to the wall of his chest, feeling the little hardened nubs of her nipples even through his leathers. And the heightened color on her cheeks told him it wasn’t a reaction from the cold or her exertions either. Well that was all well and good. This way Nephrite didn’t feel quite so bad for the painful erection he was currently fighting with.

“Get off of me,” she bit out, scowling, apparently trying to ignore the way her voice trembled.

“Not until you yield,” he shot back. “No more challenges, Lita. I’ll have your oath.”

“It’s my right to defend my own honor—,”

“And it’s my right to keep you from getting yourself killed,” he interrupted, tone flat. She could argue with him until they were both hoarse, he wasn’t going to budge on this. “I won the challenge, that means you owe me a challenge loss,” he pointed out, smirking when her eyes widened. “Ah, didn’t think I’d picked up on that little detail yet, did you, little warrior. Well I’ve done my research. So unless you want me to order you to obey me without question in the bedroom,” he growled huskily, “you’ll agree to do the other.”

Lita gasped at the heat that suddenly bled through his pale blue eyes, causing an unwanted shiver of sensation to crawl down her spine. Her breasts felt heavy and full, nipples painfully hard and tingling with sensation. And Lita was _very_ much aware of the hardened ridge of flesh pressing into her belly, causing her womb to throb with need. She was sure that that was supposed to upset or even disgust her, yet the emotion that was fluttering in her belly felt a little too close to excitement for her peace of mind. More horrifying, there was a dark little voice in the back of her head that whispered she should take him up on the second option. Then her pride wouldn’t have an excuse to say no.

“Alright!” she finally conceded, glaring. “No more challenges.” Nephrite smiled again, and Lita tensed, beginning to realize that when he wore that particular expression he was feeling particularly devious.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had some serious objections to obeying me in the bedroom.” His eyes burned. “It suddenly occurs to me that you wouldn’t be in any condition to challenge anybody if you were prone in my bed and too tired to get out of it.”

Lita gasped again, especially when his free hand suddenly slid into the curve of her hip, fingers gripping her with a remembered urgency. Her eyes widened. “Don’t,” she managed, for the moment not caring about the frightened tremble in her voice. She couldn’t do this again. If he touched her, she would lose herself completely.

“Why?” he growled, suddenly bending down to her. Lita turned her face away with some last shred of self-preservation, but all that accomplished was giving him access to other sensitive areas. She trembled when she felt the tip of his tongue trace the shell of her ear, and the hot blast of his breath on her skin made her bite back a moan. “Are you afraid you’ll like it?” he demanded then, hitting a little too close to home.

Lita squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip until it stung. Why couldn’t she hate him?! Why was her body turning traitor to her will? She jumped a little when he suddenly nipped the side of her neck, then shivered again when he laved the sting away with his tongue.

“Answer me,” he growled against her flesh.

Lita panted a few breaths, struggling to think clearly through the haze he was making with his damnable touch. When he started kissing her neck again, she finally belted, “yes!” She felt him lift away at that. After a heartbeat or two, Lita braved turning her face toward him. It was to see Nephrite staring down at her with a faintly startled expression on his face. Lita met it stubbornly. When she spoke, her voice was soft, grudgingly truthful. “I _am_ afraid to like it. I don’t _want_ to want you.”

He just stared down at her for a few more heartbeats of shock, until his pale lazuline eyes suddenly went cold and blank. If Lita didn’t know any better, she’d almost swear she saw a flash of hurt chase itself across his face before it went as unreadable as his eyes. An instant later he was standing upright, and a quick, powerful tug on her hands had her in the same position. The young Jovian Queen did her best to convince herself that this turn of events was all a good thing, then. It was surprisingly difficult.

“Wolf informs me that there is to be a celebratory feast in my honor this eve,” he pronounced after another brief hesitation, his deep tone gone carefully neutral. Still flustered and off-center, Lita let out a slight scoff as she reached down to try and straighten her mussed clothing.

“Yeah, you have fun with that.”

“I intend to,” the dark-haired warrior returned readily. “And you will do so as well.” She turned to give him a glare, opening her mouth to speak, but he was quicker. “Whether you like the arrangement or not, little warrior, we are wed. I am King. You are my Queen. And it is _vital_ in these troubled times that your people see us as a united front, one that they can look to, to lead them. One that will inspire their confidence as well as their loyalty.”

“You mean their loyalty in _you,”_ she sneered. Nephrite just stared at her until Lita found herself looking away, unable to hold his gaze from feeling somehow guilty and childish and not really knowing why.

“I have fought nearly every day for the past five months to ensure this planet does not share the fate that my own has borne these past thirteen years,” was his response after a moment, tone soft and solemn, only deepening her guilt. “You have seen war, wife, but you have not yet seen hell. You’ve not yet had your countrymen slaughtered like cattle before your very eyes. Not yet heard the sound of women and children screaming in vain for a miracle that will never come. Not yet seen the sight of the flames and the smell of the smoke as your home and everything you cherish in this world burns to the very ground until nothing but ash and memory remain.” His deep voice was shaking now, forcing Lita to turn back to him. From the haunted look in his pale eyes, she knew he was not speaking rhetorically.

Nephrite was speaking from experience. And the picture he was painting chilled her to the very core.

Lita swallowed with some difficulty. “Father . . . father said that you had defeated the Youma hoard,” she managed haltingly. Nephrite just shook his head.

“They have been beaten back, for now. But we have been cautioned by a Time Priestess that danger yet lies on the horizon. Thus we will present a solid defense. Our people will stand strong, little warrior,” he pronounced then. “That I vow.”

Then he turned on his heel and left her standing there, staring after him somewhat bemused. _Our_ people. For some reason, hearing him say that had caused a very strange reaction within her. Something warm. Soft. Something that felt suspiciously like . . . gratitude. After a moment she scowled though, stubbornly.

“Our people,” she snorted as she began stomping her way after him, back toward the palace. “Apparently the Earthling has suffered one too many blows to the head. Suddenly he thinks he is a Jovian in more than just title.”

Lita avoided the main halls, in no mood to be pestered by anyone after her run-in with Nephrite. Instead she moved swiftly and surely through the darker passages until she arrived in her own room. Suddenly feeling tired and wrung out, the young Queen sat somewhat heavily on the cushioned bench beneath her window. She turned to stare out at the raging storm beyond, absently following the green, white and pinkish flashes of lightening as they streaked across the black and violet sky. Only after a moment was she reminded of her wound, as her head began to throb softly. Lita winced, gingerly reaching up to finger the spot, then grimacing when her fingertips came way stained red.

She’d been an absolute fool to challenge Minos. While it was true that she was more than capable of fighting and protecting herself, one of the most vital lessons a warrior learned was their own limitations. And Lita had known darned well she couldn’t defeat Minos. Yet she had challenged him anyhow. And over something so trivial she couldn’t even recall the reason. She sighed somewhat heavily, reaching for a clean cloth and wetting it in the basin of water nearby before pressing it to her forehead.

When had she become so unmanageable? So reckless? How had it come to pass that an outsider, an Earthling, cared more for the well-being of her people than their own native Queen? A sad, wry smile pulled at her mouth, then. Her own father had not seen her worth in many years. Perhaps there was a reason for that, then.

Lita stayed in front of the window staring at the scenery beyond and mulling over that painful possibility for the rest of the afternoon. Only stirring when a servant girl gently scratched at her door hours later. Lita turned slightly to call out for whomever it was to enter, and Daya crept forward.

“Ah, my Queen. The . . . Lord Nephrite has requested your presence below for the feast.”

Lita snorted slightly to herself. Apparently he didn’t trust her to do so on her own. “You may inform the _King,”_ she still couldn’t bring herself to call him such without sneering the term a little, “that I will be down in a moment.”

Still, Daya hesitated. Lita watched the girl fidget a little, eyes narrowing. Daya was nervous, for some reason. Which didn’t make much sense . . . unless . . . .

“Was there something else?”

The slender female nearly jumped out of her skin. “A-ah, yes. Lord Nephrite . . . um . . . h-he instructed me to make certain you were . . . a-attired properly.”

Lita’s eyes began to narrow. “Define ‘properly.’”

Daya bit her lip slightly, her voice very faint when she finally worked up the nerve to actually speak. “He said . . . he said I was to garb you ‘as a Queen of Jupiter ought.’ I . . . I think he meant for you to wear a . . . a gown, my Lady.” And then the girl cringed, waiting for the resulting explosion.

Probably expecting one similar to the fit she’d thrown when her father informed her she’d be required to wear a gown for the ball on Lunara.

The high-handed order certainly didn’t invoke warm and affectionate feelings within her, that much was certain. However, the wording he’d chosen kept her from any real fit of fury. ‘As a Queen of Jupiter ought.’ Lita stared at an increasingly confused Daya without really seeing her, her mind as tumultuous as the storm outside. She could continue to fight him and bicker and resist everything that the man said and did. Or, she could finally grow up—Lita suddenly realized—and take responsibility for the position she now held. Beyond everything, Lita loved her home. She loved her people. The last thing she wanted was to see Jupiter ravaged by the horrors Nephrite and Earth had witnessed.

And if her wearing a dratted dress could help, if even just a small bit, then so be it.

“Very well then,” she heaved after a long pause, causing Daya to blink in stunned disbelief. “Go and fetch what you will need to prepare me, while I bathe.”

“Ah . . . o-of course, my lady,” Daya fumbled, before dropping into a quick curtsy. “At once.”

A half-hour later Lita was standing in front of the large full-length mirror that had been her mother’s once upon a time, the silver glass surrounded in ornate rose-quartz carved in the shape of a hundred different flowers. The young queen eyed her reflection critically, her cheeks a dull red with uncomfortable embarrassment. She’d not worn the traditional feminine garb of her people in many, many years. She’d almost forgotten how . . . flimsy it was. And very, very girly.

Pale rose and soft green gauze as delicate as spider silk overlapped one another, winding down around her torso, over her breasts and up over one shoulder, across her back, around her waist and from there the material fell to the ground like wisps of cloud. Her auburn hair was pulled up into its customary tail, though accented with a set of silvery barrettes on either side that curled from her temples to the crown of her head in the shape of twisting ivy. Two matching bracelets encircled both of her arms, silvery ivy vines curling from her wrists near to her elbows. A pair of sandals—held together by ivy-leaf clips—finished the ensemble.

Lita swallowed a bit uncomfortably, turning a deaf ear to Daya’s uncertain compliments. The young woman had been trying to turn herself into a man for so long and so stubbornly that the thought of showing herself in front of her people like this was suddenly a terrifying concept. In her mind she looked ridiculous, an imposter in frilly clothing. Everyone else would think so as well, she was sure of it. Lita agonized over that for a few more moments before she lifted her chin, her jaw setting stubbornly.

If they thought her ridiculous, so be it. She might not be the Queen her people deserved, but she was the Queen they’d been given. They were all just going to have to get used to that fact and get over it.

With that decision made, Lita turned and marched out of her room with a purposeful stride, leaving Daya sputtering in surprise in her wake.

Her stubbornness carried her all the way through the halls and out into the entryway. Then she was forced to face _him_ again, and when those damnable blue eyes turned toward her, her courage faltered. Lita didn’t see the way they widened slightly, nor properly translate the shocked expression on her face through her own embarrassed self-doubt and discomfort.

“I feel like a complete fool in this frilly get-up,” she snapped somewhat brusquely. “So I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

It took a minute for her words to penetrate the fog of shock currently swirling in Nephrite’s brain.

It was as if Lita had completely transformed. The soft, feminine creature he’d only glimpsed at the night of their wedding had finally made a full appearance, it seemed. Her cheeks were stained a permanent pink, green eyes flashing with shy uncertainty, mirrored by the way her fingers kept twisting into the skirts of her gown. Yet his little warrior had not left completely, still there in the defiant lift of her chin and the headstrong cut of her jaw. She was a vision, and one that seemed to spear straight through his gut, causing his heart to twist painfully in his chest. At that moment, she was one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. Which was all the more painful to discover, knowing that she would never let herself care for him. Nephrite had come to that painful conclusion earlier that afternoon, and was still struggling to come to terms with it. The knowledge that the only woman in the world that he would ever allow himself to touch was terrified and sickened of that happening was a very bitter draught to swallow.

But eventually what she’d said finally sunk through, and his bemused expression fell into a pensive one.

“Why should you feel a fool,” he demanded then. “You are beautiful, Lita. The garb of your people suits you.”

Which was more than true. There was a deeply earthy, natural, almost wilder feel to the gown she wore, which more than suited the tempestuous Queen. Yet, instead of soothe her, his praise only made her face turn redder and her green eyes flash with hurt.

“Please don’t lie to me,” she forced out with as much dignity as she could seem to muster. “This is hard enough as it is.”

Nephrite frowned. “What—,”

“You were right,” she interrupted suddenly, drawing herself up to her full height. “I have been acting badly. For a very long time. The last thing I want is for my people to suffer for that. So I came down here tonight to do as you asked. To be a united front, like you said. But do not try and flatter me with false pretense. I know that I am a failure, in more ways than one,” she announced then. And what stunned Nephrite more than her words was the stark belief shining out of her green eyes. A stone-cold acceptance that what she was saying was the absolute truth. “I have never been able to please my father. I have never been able to please my people.” She swallowed somewhat thickly. “I have never been able to please myself. And I likely will never be able to please you, either. But I refuse to sit back and do nothing any longer.”

Somewhat dazed, Nephrite couldn’t think of anything to say or do. A moment later they were announced, however, taking the decision out of his hands.

In the hours that followed Nephrite sat before a massive hall filled to the brim with Jovian warriors and their families, accepting toasts and congratulations, well-wishes and dreams for the future. Yet through it all his thoughts and, largely, his eyes remained fastened to the female sitting uncomfortably at his side.

He had seen women use self-pity as a tactic to gain attention before. This was not that. Lita well and truly believed herself to be worthless. Never to be accepted as a man, not knowing how to be a woman, she sat beside him and amongst her people, uncomfortable and painfully unsure. In the thick of them all but always somehow distant and removed. At the moment Lita was feeling like a stranger in her own skin, and it showed.

Nephrite made a silent vow to himself, then. Somehow, someway, he would manage to get his wife to see her worth. That being a woman didn’t mean she was worthless, or a failure. That she could hold onto her pride and her honor without completely sacrificing her gender. And that she could embrace her gender without sacrificing who she was.

 _Our people will stand strong, little warrior,_ he repeated silently, gaze hardening with determination. _And that goes for you, too._


	20. Homecoming - Zoisite

“Mal’s _what?!”_

Zoisite stared in abject disbelief at his cousin as Jorowyn came farther into his office and plopped somewhat inelegantly into a chair. The Phaetonian was looking even more ragged than usual, which was saying something, his clothes askew and his manner somehow . . . fidgety. Zoisite might’ve wondered more on the reason for that, if Jorowyn hadn’t blindsided him with his foot barely in the door.

The deposed prince snorted at the now-King of Mercury’s flabbergasted reaction to the news he’d just given.

“Well you know, Z, that’s what happens when mommies and daddies sleep in the same bed together,” he pronounced in a sickeningly sweet, innocent tone, fluttering his pale green eyes. Zoisite’s stunned look slid into a sour one.

“Ha, ha,” he droned, less than amused. “Seriously, Jory. What’s the story? And I know you know it. You know damn near everything that goes on in this universe, Stars if I’ll ever figure out how.”

Jorowyn just grinned, giving a slight mocking bow in his seat before straightening. “Well it shouldn’t come as any surprise to anyone that the new Queen of Venus is breeding. If just from sheer repetition alone.” Zoisite’s eyebrow lifted at that and Jorowyn just grinned mischievously. “I’d go into more detail, but even _I_ have limits. Small though they might be. I don’t relish the thought of taking a fist to the face from the North General, if it’s all the same. Just suffice to say, she’ll be birthing the next heir to the Venusian throne and the Northern Wastes in three to four months’ time.”

Zoisite blew out a slow whistle. “Damn. So soon? That means she had to have conceived before we left for Saturn.” He hesitated, then, eyes narrowing. “Or are we not certain that the babe she carries is really Malachite’s?” Jorowyn shook his head, however.

“No, there’s no question as to whether or not the bratling is Mal’s. It’s impossible not to be. I know, it sounds completely contradictory,” he admitted wryly at his cousin’s confused frown. “But for a race of people who are so casual about sex, they’re practically _religious_ about monogamy once ‘Joined,’ as they call it. She would sooner kill herself than betray him to another lover.”

Zoisite let out another stunned noise, blinking. While he had gained massive amounts of knowledge about his new home and their ways over the past months, he was still very much in the learning stages as far as the other planets and cultures were concerned. It had been a week now since their return from Pluto, and Zoisite was acclimating himself rather well to his new position. Or, at least, so he believed. And though he found himself faced by technological wonders that would stagger a lesser man on a daily basis, he was becoming very adept at hiding his shock and going with the flow.

The last thing he wanted was to appear as a backwater simpleton to his new people. Which—for those who were not with him on the front lines at least—he was already being labeled as in some cases, before ever being given a chance to prove otherwise. Luckily Ami was almost always at his side, however, and so supportive. His blue-haired wife was quick to step in should he falter, covering any misstep masterfully so that very few ever realized he’d even erred. She also made certain that any grumblings that reached her ears were quickly and assertively silenced.

“We are striding boldly into a new age,” she had announced at the ceremony that she’d arranged for him the day he’d arrived on Mercury for the first time from Pluto. Her melodious voice was cool and firm with conviction as she continued, glancing briefly toward her father—who was dressed in grease-stained coveralls with a pair of goggles shoved up onto his head, looking a cross between defiant and resigned—“some are unable to accept change, when it arrives. The change is, however, inevitable. I ask that every one of you embrace your new King as I have done, honor the sacrifices he has already made on our behalf these past five months against the Negaverse, and join us both as we work together to build a brighter, more peaceful future.”

The applause had been far less grudging, then. And slowly, very slowly—as Zoisite continued to prove himself to the Mercurians—the naturally reserved and mistrustful people were beginning to warm to him.

Zoisite sat silently now as Jorowyn reached into the pack he’d dropped at his feet, fishing out his flask and twisting off the top. He watched his cousin take a swill, eyes narrowing somewhat. “So,” he called, tenting his hands over the top of his desk. “Any particular reason why you look like you just rolled out of bed? And I mean that literally, not figuratively. I think part of your pants are still unfastened.”

The quick-witted Mercurian King took note of the way his cousin seemed to flinch slightly, actually glancing down to check the state of his fastenings. Which meant he wasn’t sure whether they were on properly or not. Hmm . . . very interesting . . . .

Instead of own up to whatever it was, Jorowyn merely shot him a sour grin. “I’m a fall-down-drunk,” he pronounced with sarcastic bravado. “This is how I’m supposed to look.”

Zoisite winced. “Jory . . .”

Jorowyn grimaced at that however, holding up his hand. “Please. No natterings, nursemaid. I didn’t come all the way out here for a lecture. We’ve got business to discuss.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but Zoisite let the matter drop, for now. He, better than anyone, knew that it was useless to try and strong-arm Jorowyn in a direction he didn’t want to go. Instead he allowed his cousin to pull out several pages worth of lists; components and parts that were needed to effect repairs on Earth as well as some of the other planets. This in order to help strengthen their defenses against whatever might be coming in the future. And then, under Jorowyn’s watchful—and even faintly impressed—eye, Zoisite began utilizing the Chrys-Tech computer set into his desk, his slender fingers tapping swiftly across the brilliant greenish-blue screen as he sorted through files and listings.

“We should have most of it in stock,” he murmured after a moment. “What little else we don’t have can be manufactured within a week, I’m sure.”

Jorowyn just smirked at him. “There were times in the past that I worried my aunt’s Phaetonian blood never took root in you, cousin. But I’m happy to say that I now stand corrected.” Zoisite snorted at this.

“Why? Because I managed to pick up the use of these computers?” Jorowyn shrugged.

“Among other things. Life on Mercury suits you, it would seem.”

Zoisite smiled somewhat wryly. “Aye, yes. All except for this damnable cold.” He shivered a little then, as if to prove the point, reaching down to rub at his coat-covered arms to inspire some warmth. He was wearing a pale green and white, fur-lined coat and matching slacks that had been made especially for him, but still the bone-deep chill of the planet somehow managed to pierce through and assault him. “The Mercurian physiology has long-ago adapted to it, they barely feel a thing. Meanwhile I’m constantly freezing my ass off. I think even Malachite would shiver here.”

Jorowyn took another sip of his drink, then shot him a lascivious grin. “You’re a smart man, Z. You got yourself a beautiful wife, I’m sure you can think up a few clever ways to keep warm.”

Zoisite felt his face heat somewhat uncomfortably. He scoffed off the comment, sitting back to review the readouts on the computer screen again while reaching up to twist a curl of his hair around his finger, a nervous twitch. One his cousin was well familiar with. After a slight pause, Jorowyn let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Oh Stars, don’t tell me . . . separate bedrooms? Am I right?”

The color in his face got darker. “Leave it, Jory,” he growled somewhat testily. In vain of course, as Mercury would have itself a record heat-wave before _that_ would ever occur. And, since Fate seemed especially determined to be cruel to him today, the Mercurian Queen chose that very moment to open the door to his office and step inside, right as Jorowyn barked out his next words in sneering humor.

“Gods, did you even manage to bed the frigid wench on your wedding night, or did you have to bow out of that, too?”

Zoisite just sat there in stunned horror for a span of a heartbeat, while Ami blinked rapidly on the threshold of the office, expression startled. She was dressed in an ivory white blouse today with long, transparent gossamer sleeves and a pale blue fluttering skirt that came to mid-calf, looking every inch a prim and proper Queen. Which only made his cousin’s misstep seem all the worse, somehow.

“Jorowyn!” he snarled somewhat hoarsely, then. The Phaetonian cleared his throat a little, actually looking a touch flustered for once. And perhaps even a little contrite. Getting him to _admit_ to that wrong, however, would probably take forces much stronger than Zoisite alone possessed. The Phaetonian snatched up the satchel at his feet and stood, tossing it over his shoulder.

“Well then. I’ve got more kingdoms to check in on, more things to oversee. I’ll be back around in a week to pick up my orders.”

Ami, having recovered from the row she’d been dealt, somehow managed to put on a small smile and gave Jorowyn a nod of deference.

“Thank you for visiting us, Lord Phaeton.”

Zoisite sighed somewhat heavily as he watched his cousin’s back stiffen as if someone had just hit him with a hot poker. She’d inadvertently stirred up a hornet’s nest with that one.

“I’m not a Lord,” the Phaetonian growled somewhat harshly. “In case you didn’t notice, _Lady,_ my planet’s nothing but an _asteroid belt_ , no thanks to you people. That kind’ve gets rid of the whole chain of command by default.”

Ami flustered only slightly in the face of Jorowyn’s rancor, clearing her throat a little and clasping her slender hands in front of her thighs instead. “My apologies, Jorowyn,” she murmured diplomatically then. “My intent was not to insult you, or stir up painful memories.” Zoisite remained silent as the two of them entered into a stare-down of a sort, curious as to how this would all play out. “I realize that you harbor prejudices against the Alliance, and against my people specifically, Jorowyn. Most of which are well-founded. You are also the only blood-relation that my husband has left in this star-system, and vice-versa,” Ami continued after a moment, tone soft with sympathy. “Zoisite will no doubt wish to have you near him often, as is natural. But he is also married to me,” she announced then. And if the Mercurian King didn’t know any better, he’d swear her cool voice rang with a touch of possessiveness in that declaration. “That arrangement isn’t going to change any time soon,” she continued calmly. “So what say you, we endeavor our best to let bygones be bygones, and try to get along in the future? For his sake, at least, if for no other.”

Zoisite remained silent as Jorowyn shifted on his feet, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Finally, he just mumbled out a gruff, “whatever,” before stepping around her and disappearing out the door, taking a long drink from his flask along the way. Probably the closest anyone would ever see him concede a point. To say that Zoisite was impressed would’ve been a mild understatement indeed.

He gazed at her as Ami let out a small sigh, watching his cousin leave for a moment, before turning back to him. Only now did her cool mask crack slightly, as two small spots of pink suddenly bloomed up in her cheeks and she fidgeted a little, blue eyes falling down toward his desk rather than meet his stare directly.

Feeling something warm and soft tugging at his heart, Zoisite cleared his throat and stood, taking a few steps toward her. “Ah, sorry about that. Jory can be hell to deal with sometimes.”

Ami looked back up at him at that, shaking her head, though with a small, reassuring smile. “No, don’t worry. It isn’t your place to apologize for him. And I can understand, to some extent, why he acts the way that he does. The pain he must have endured these past years is no small thing. That kind of loss is bound to make a grouse out of anyone.” Her smile turned a touch impish, then. “Though I’d like to think that we have come to an understanding, he and I. Hopefully it will help smooth the way for him to feel more comfortable here in the future.”

Zoisite marveled at her for a moment or two, then, silent. How she managed to be so selflessly giving and understanding after all the demands that were put upon her, he’d never know. The Queen of Mercury’s days were not spent sitting idle in some sewing room, chatting with ladies-in-waiting. Instead she frequently toured the domes for the better part of the day; tirelessly listening to endless complaints from technicians, offering solutions to those problems as well as giving calming words of hope and advice. She also worked with the families who had been ravaged in the war, visited personally with the wives and children who had been left behind, their loved ones taken by the Youma Hoard. Just her presence—calm, gentle and assured—was often plenty to soothe the horrible wounds that these people bore.

His own duties were vast and varied, and kept him busy for most of the day as well. And what was even more incredible was the knowledge that the young Queen had borne the duties of both stations for nearly half a year in his absence, and managed it with skill and aplomb that was more than a touch admirable.

After all that, Ami still somehow managed to remain as kind and sweet as ever, never losing her patience or her goodwill. She was always understanding, always patient, never growing frustrated or annoyed with him when he failed to grasp a concept or accidentally gave a social blunder. Ami was as sweet as she was intelligent, as humble as she was beautiful.

If only she wasn’t sleeping in a different bed than his own.

Jorowyn had unerringly touched upon the one flaw in his otherwise comfortable existence here in his new home. Zoisite supposed he should have expected such an arrangement from this culture, but it still rankled somewhat. The royal suite itself was immense, and enjoyed several amenities and comforts as well as technological wonders that awed him—such as lights that required only verbal command to control, and doors that opened and closed by themselves whenever you approached. Off from the main chamber, however, there were two separate sleeping quarters on opposite sides from one another. The first day he’d come to Mercury Ami had shown him into one of the bedrooms—the larger—and then after a soft murmur of goodnight, had removed herself to the other one and firmly shut the door behind her.

It had remained that way for the past week and didn’t seem apt to change any time soon, more’s the pity. Because Zoisite would very much like to test out a few theories of how he might chase away this pervasive chill he constantly suffered once and for all, with his pretty wife’s help. His sharp mind could come up with all sorts of delicious possibilities. Had already, in fact, over the past few nights laying awake in his own bed, staring up at the ceiling while sleep eluded him. Knowing she was only thirty or so feet away, behind doors that seemed all too eager to open for his passage, if he could just work up the nerve to approach it.

Ami stared up at him now, looking somewhat torn between shyness and curiosity. “Ah . . . it is time for lunch, if you’re hungry?” she offered then, somewhat tentative. “I’ve had Benson set us out a tray in the sitting room, if you’d like.”

Zoisite struggled to work up his nerve. Maybe if he took the first step? Perhaps she did feel something for him, she was just too shy to show it?

“What if we took our lunch somewhere outside of the palace, for once? Like a picnic of sorts?” he suddenly offered, smiling when she gave a startled blink at his abrupt, unexpected offer. “I have yet to really explore the planet much, and I’ve heard that Prime-1 boasts some beautiful gardens and waterfalls. Perhaps you’d care to show me.”

Ami just stared up at him with widened eyes, as if he’d suggested they run through the palace naked. “Oh, but . . . the schedule,” she fumbled somewhat weakly, and Zoisite felt the warmth that had started to build in his chest grow cold once more at that reminder.

Every day on Mercury was very carefully scheduled. As one would expect from a culture of intellectuals, they left nothing to chance. Every moment was planned for and structured, leaving very little room for spontaneity. No doubt indulging in a spur-of-the-moment picnic would tear her precious schedule all to hell. Doing his best to bury any sense of pain or disappointment, Zoisite sighed a little and gave her a tight smile.

“Of course, the schedule,” he murmured. “I had almost forgotten. Forgive my lapse.”

Her blue eyes softened then, obviously he’d not done a good enough job of masking his emotions. Which only annoyed him more. Other than indifference, the only other thing he hated to be treated with was pity. Like hell he’d suffer through it with her.

“About the picnic, Zoisite—,”

“It was a terrible idea, I know,” he forced out as neutrally as he could. “Please, think nothing more of it. It was a momentary lapse, that’s all. Come, we wouldn’t want to be late to lunch. I’d hate to cause any more upset to your routine than I already have.”

After another—probably pathetic—attempt at a reassuring smile, Zoisite turned and quit the office with quick and decisive strides. Eager to get the meal over with so he could retreat back to the quiet comfort of his office once more. Alone and away from her.

Therefore, he completely missed it as Ami’s slender shoulders drooped, and she let out a heavy, weary sigh.

“—I’d love to,” she finished somewhat lamely now that he was gone, staring after him forlornly.

There were very few situations that Ami didn’t know how to handle. She had been raised to be poised and confident and more than capable of dealing with whatever unexpected challenges were thrown her way. Yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to figure out how to handle her husband. These past few moments were a perfect example of her lack of skill in this field. Zoisite had offered a perfectly sweet, gentlemanly gesture and she—silly goose that she was—had been so flustered and shocked by it that she’d carried on about the day’s schedule like a ninny. By the time she managed to recover, the damage had already been done.

The Queen of Mercury sighed somewhat heavily, forcing her feet to start moving forward to carry her toward the sitting room where she’d had their lunch prepared. The meal would now no doubt be riddled with long uncomfortable silences and awkward glances, but there was nothing for it now. Best to just get it over and done with.

Ami entered the room a moment later, whose roof and three of the four curved walls were comprised of crystal-clear glass to allow for a beautiful view of the pale blue—nearly white—sky beyond the dome miles above them. Zoisite was already seated at one side of the small breakfast table in the center of the room, and Benson—one of the palace’s more skilled and loyal servants—was already serving him. Ami forced herself to step over to them, even though her nerves and disappointment had chased away any hint of hunger that had been there previously. She sat, and accepted a much smaller portion of the food than her husband with a wan smile and a murmur of thanks, ignoring the older man’s slightly worried glance afterward. Benson had been in the palace’s employ ever since she was a small child, and would easily be able to tell if she were upset.

In order to mask this, she turned to him and forced her expression to brighten. “Benson, I believe that father is still in his workroom. Could you please prepare a portion of this that I can bring to him later? Otherwise we both know he’ll forget the meal entirely.”

“At once, my Lady,” Benson assured, though not without giving her one last pointed gaze before he turned and retreated back to the kitchens to do as she’d asked.

Ami sat uncomfortably in the almost oppressive silence that ensued afterward, struggling to think of something—anything—she might say to try and ease it. She never managed it, unfortunately, and soon enough Zoisite was finishing his meal and getting to his feet. He gave her another one of those sad smiles, where the emotion on his face never quite entered those powerful emerald-green eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, Ami. There are several more mandates I’d like to get through before tonight, as well as some last minute adjustments to our defenses.”

“Of course,” she excused him readily enough, fighting to put on a brave face while her heart pinched with disappointment and regret. A moment later and he was gone.

Alone in the room, the Queen visibly slumped with defeat.

It took her several moments to rouse herself, most of her food left untouched. Instead she got to her feet and left to go fetch her father’s portion, somehow neatly managing to avoid or outmaneuver Benson’s concerned questions.

Ami made her way to her father’s workroom, finding the former King busy at work on his latest invention as she’d thought she would.

“Father, I’ve brought you some lunch,” she called, causing the smaller man to push out from underneath the hulk of metal and crystal that he was currently constructing. He blinked his owl-like pale blue eyes at her, his white hair sticking up in a crazy disarray.

“Stars sake, is it that late already?” he huffed, sounding as shocked as he looked. “Could’ve sworn it was no later than mid-morning.” Despite her own doldrums, Ami felt her face pull into an affectionate smile at the endearingly familiar scene.

Hector hauled himself to his feet with a heavy sigh before taking the wrapped food from his daughter with a murmur of thanks and a quick peck to her forehead. Ami hesitated near his creation while Hector moved toward a worktable, carefully pushing aside tools and components until he’d made enough room for his lunch and began eating with gusto—hinting that he’d probably forgone breakfast this morning in his haste to get started. Again. She found herself sighing a little, absently reaching over to tweak a few readings on the crystal display, lost into her own morose thoughts. Therefore she started somewhat sharply when her father suddenly asked,

“What’s got you looking so upset?”

“What?” she flustered slightly, straightening away from the machine somewhat guiltily. “N-nothing, father. I’m fine.”

“Try again, Ames,” he murmured somewhat dryly. “Not buying that rubbish for a moment.” He gave her a shrewd stare as he chewed his latest mouthful, then his eyes narrowed. “Has that damned Earthling done something to upset you?”

Ami felt her own gaze harden with annoyance and exasperation, as her father continued to cling to his unreasoning dislike of Zoisite and prejudice against his home. “For the last time, father. Zoisite has been nothing but accommodating and understanding,” she bit out. “The man has gone out of his way to learn our ways and customs, working tirelessly to fit in, and has made untold sacrifices already to ensure our planet’s safety and security.”

Hector just snorted, taking another bite. “And apparently got absolutely no clue how to please a woman,” he snapped testily, “else I wouldn’t be seeing you sighing and moping about the halls at all hours of the day and night, barely able to focus on what direction your feet are taking you. Mayhap someone should draw the damned Earthling a diagram, maybe _then_ he might be able to find the right spot—,”

 _“Papa!”_ she gasped, interrupting him. Ami could only stare, eyes widened to their limits and face burning red with mortified disbelief. Never in her life had she heard her father talk of such intimate things, and certainly never so bluntly. Hector just shook his head slightly now, however, not looking the least bit contrite.

“No matter how much I don’t like the idea, I’m not going to pretend you’re still a virgin, Ames.” He scowled slightly. “The Earthling would be too damned smart to leave something like that unfinished, he’d have wanted to make sure that his claim on this planet was signed and sealed. No, I’ve no doubt the bastard bedded you thoroughly. Though apparently not very well.”

Ami just sputtered, caught somewhere between angered offense on Zoisite’s behalf or embarrassed disbelief that this bizarre conversation was even taking place. “Not that it is any of your business,” she somehow managed after a moment, tone brittle even though her face was probably as red as a cherry, “but there wasn’t anything wrong with what happened on my wedding night, if you must know. Zoisite was—,” Ami stopped herself before she could blurt out anything any more embarrassing than what she’d already revealed, turning redder under her father’s discerning gaze before she finished, somewhat lamely, “perfectly acceptable.”

His pale brows drew together for a moment of stewing thought, then they arched again as something suddenly occurred to him. “Your wedding night was acceptable, eh. But no other night afterward.”

Ami made a noise of frustrated mortification, throwing up her hands. “How is that in any way relevant!?” she demanded somewhat shrilly.

“It becomes relevant when it makes you so sad,” he countered sternly. Ami stared at him for a moment before swallowing somewhat thickly, absently wrapping her arms around herself in a clear sign of bewildered doubt even if she wasn’t completely aware of that fact.

“It shouldn’t matter,” she muttered under her breath, her confusion evident. “He is cordial and kind. And so smart.” Ami glanced at her now-gruff looking father with a sad smile. “I know you don’t want to see it Papa, but he is. Zoisite takes to learning new things like a fish to water. He is strong, powerful enough to protect our people, but compassionate enough to be sensitive to their needs. He follows our customs unfailingly.” Ami stared somewhat unseeingly at the wall beyond, expression slowly becoming pained. “Yet somehow, every time I look at him I find myself wishing for something . . . more. And I’ve absolutely no idea why. Or what I’m supposed to do about it.”

Hector let out a grumble, shaking his head then and swiping his goggles off of his head and tossing them onto the table. Then he let out a heavy sigh of his own. “It’s because you’re falling in love with him, silly girl,” he pronounced, tone tired and thick with a measure of defeat.

Ami’s eyes widened again, this time more from abject shock. Was she . . . was she really? “B-but . . . I thought . . . you said love had no place in the union of Royalty,” she mumbled, stricken. Hector winced a little, then sighed again.

“You’ve not committed some awful betrayal of your station, Ames, so nip that thought right now while you’re ahead.” Her father came forward and took her by the hand, then, leading the somewhat shell-shocked girl over to one of his workbenches before gently pushing her down onto it, following suit soon afterward. He cleared his throat gruffly, reaching out to take her hand again and patted it gently. “You’re a soft girl, Ami. Always have been, just like your mother,” he added, tone going gruff. “My marriage to your mother was arranged the day she was born, it was always to be a union of convenience and political gain. But she was so easy to love, my Ismene, and she loved so freely in return. So it is not so hard a thing for me to believe that you would love easily, as well. You remind me more and more of her with every day that passes.”

Ami just stared at him, touched and humbled more than she’d probably ever be able to put into words. Yet doubts still ate at her. “What do I do now, Papa?” she questioned then. “Everything I do seems to go so wrong. I . . . I don’t know how to say or do the right thing around him. I don’t . . . I don’t know how to tell him . . . what I feel.”

Hector hesitated a moment before answering, “you’re trying too hard, button,” he murmured, and the sound of her childhood pet name caused a wrench of poignant pain in her heart. “If there is one thing that I’ve learned in my years it’s that in matters of the heart, this,” he gently tapped her forehead with a grease-stained finger, “will get you into no end of trouble. Don’t think with your head, Ami. Let your heart decide. It won’t lead you astray.”

Ami gazed up at her father then, somewhat at a loss. “Why are you telling me this?” she questioned softly. “You hate Zoisite . . . Why would you wish me to be in love with him?”

Hector grew even more gruff and uncomfortable, sighing again and scrubbing at his already wild hair. “I’ve no lost love for the Earthling, that is for certain. However . . . you, I care for a great deal.” His ice-colored eyes went suspiciously glassy with emotion. “Try to understand. It is no easy thing for a father to lose his only daughter, even under the best of circumstances. But the only thing that has been harder for me to stomach than losing you to the damned Earthling is seeing you so miserably heartsick over him.” He smiled a little at her aching expression, reaching up to brush a few tendrils of her blue hair out of her eyes. “I just want you to be happy, button. To hell with everything else.”

A moment later Ami couldn’t stand herself any longer. She sat forward with a hitched breath, her arms throwing around his middle. And Hector, usually not one for overly emotional displays, just chuckled a little before gathering her up in his own arms for a warm, loving hug.

A little while later she left her father to his work, trailing back down the hallways toward the royal suite. In some ways she had been calmed from the meeting with her father, but in other ways she was even more unsettled. She loved Zoisite. She had actually fallen in love with her husband in a very short amount of time, as incredible as that seemed. That knowledge gave her strength, but it also made her feel impossibly weak in the knees as well.

Because now, somehow, Ami had to try and find the courage to tell him so. And pray that doing it didn’t end up making her look and feel like a complete and utter fool.


	21. Homecoming - Jadeite

_Perhaps we should start to call him the Gelding King?_

_I don’t understand it. He was like a God on the battlefield on Saturn and Pluto. Put the man in front of his wife, however, and he turns into a spineless pudding!_

_Hasn’t Lady Raye always been a terror, though? I wouldn’t wish that harpy on_ any _man._

_It would seem the all-powerful Earthling has no more stamina and strength of will than our own men when it comes to her. There’s a comfort in that, I suppose._

_Still. A man should have more control over his woman, Earthling or no. It’s becoming embarrassing to even witness._

Jadeite felt his jaw clench as the telepathic conversations of the soldiers around him flowed and ebbed through his mind. Unfortunately the thoughts he was picking up on were not uncommon ones. In the three weeks that he’d been in residence on his new home planet, his temperamental wife had been going out of her way to try and make his life an absolute living hell. As a result, a lot of the respect he’d earned during the war from the Martian warriors under his command was slowly but surely being eroded away. Jadeite was quickly becoming a bit of a laughing stock in the Courts, due to Raye’s openly defiant, flippant behavior.

The crimson desert Kingdom of Mars was a somewhat complex culture, especially compared to that of his own back on Earth. In some ways the genders were considered completely equal. For example, a woman was free to pursue whatever profession she chose with any skill she possessed, with no limitations on how high she could reach in that endeavor. However, dignity and honor for the individual was an extremely large, very important aspect of their society. No matter their social standing, in the family structure of things the husband or the father was always at the top of the pile. A wife was supposed to defer to her husband and a daughter to her father in all things—or at the very least appear to do so in public—as it was an outward symbol of their respect for him.

Thus the fact that Raye went out of her way to thumb her nose at him, and in front of as many other people as she could muster, was seen as the highest form of insult that could be given. Any power or respect Jadeite had managed to glean in battle was quickly being overshadowed by his lack of ability to control his wife. If he couldn’t keep one woman in line, after all, how was he supposed to manage to control an entire Kingdom?

Unfortunately Jadeite just couldn’t seem to bring himself to do anything about it. Every time he looked at Raye and tried to summon up even a glimmer of anger over her behavior, he saw her face the way it had been the night of their wedding. When she’d screamed at him not to touch her. Felt her fear and the loathing of him that had been in her mind. Six months and countless ways of trying to make up for it hadn’t eased the sting of that blow in the least. So now, whenever she slung insults on his head or went out of her way to make things difficult for him—rather than take her to task for it or even fight back as his position demanded—Jadeite found his shoulders rounding with resigned defeat and he simply turned and walked way.

The former General sighed now, moving away from the others and wandering the palace halls until he passed through a curtain of gauzy silk out onto a large, secluded terrace. One that afforded a breathtaking view of the planet he now called home. Endless dunes of scarlet sand and jagged rock formations stretched out as far as the eye could see, back dropped by an intense, whirling violet sky. With almost nonexistent cloud cover and very little vegetation, the air was commonly hot and arid during the daylight hours, and bitterly cold at night. The environs of Mars were harsh, unforgiving, yet somehow indescribably beautiful in that brutality. Though the why of it, Jadeite couldn’t rightly explain.

Jadeite truly loved it here. As much loyalty as he held for Earth and the Southern Kingdom—and it was quite substantial—for some reason he just felt . . . at home, on Mars. The golden-haired King smiled somewhat wryly as he leaned his weight on his forearms, braced across the massive, lavenderish-gray stone sill before him. _Mayhap that has less to do with the planet, and more with the fact that there are no bad memories here to haunt me?_

That train of thought eventually chased the smile off his face, to be replaced with a grimace of pain instead.

Jadeite had loved the Southern Palace, the home of his youth, the land he’d inherited from his father and his father’s father before that. Yet he’d not felt at home there for a very long time. Thirteen years to be exact. For whenever he walked those halls, he heard the sound of his mother’s shrill screams echoing the corridors. Saw his parents’ bodies strewn across the marble floor like broken marionette dolls. As one would imagine, it was a very hard thing to feel at home in a place after that. It was no small wonder that he very rarely spent any time there once he was old enough to roam.

But here, on Mars, everything was new and fresh. A chance to start over, to build a new life for himself that wasn’t constantly shadowed by pain and death. Only it seemed he was destined to fail here as he’d failed his parents all those years ago. Jadeite scowled now, fists clenching on the rail. If he continued to lose face to the Martian people, soon they’d no longer obey his commands. And if he couldn’t maintain order on this planet, then Endymion would be forced to replace him. Jadeite would have to return to the Southern Palace. Return to his nightmares.

And he’d have to leave Raye behind.

Jadeite continued to stare restlessly at the shifting horizon and the slowly setting sun for a long while after that, wondering on how the thought of that hurt him in a way that was hard to put into cohesive thought. Eventually he was pulled from his own musings when Romulus suddenly pushed his way through the curtains. The older man flashed him a wan smile, though it soon fell again under the weight of worry in his dark eyes. The former monarch sighed instead, coming to stand beside him.

 _The Phaetonian is soon to depart,_ Rom announced in mind speech. _Says our defenses are as tight as they can be, and that his work here for now is done. Off to Jupiter next, he says._ Jadeite nodded.

 _Endymion asked that Jory tour all of the planets, to ensure that our defenses are air-tight._ The younger man sighed after a moment, his eyes continuing to gaze restlessly across the landscape before them. _Do you really think they will strike again? It seems suicidal, now that we are all united._

Romulus leaned his hip against the rail, one arm curled across his chest and the other scratching at his thick beard as he thought. _Impossible to say for certain. Delphi has only fleeting impressions. A feeling here or there. Of . . . anticipation. That something is to occur soon, though she cannot say just what. It seems to corroborate Princess Trista’s warnings, however._

Jadeite let out a frustrated growl, at that. He hated the thought of someone or something continuing to threaten his peace and livelihood. He hated _not knowing_ about it even more. Romulus gazed at him silently for several moments, then,

_My wife has ordered me to speak with you about Raye._

Jadeite flinched at that, then turned, brows lifted. “Wh-what?” he demanded out loud, flustered. Romulus heaved a sigh.

 _A man can pretend that he is lord and master in his home, but in many ways a wife still manages to impose her will,_ he chuckled, then grew more serious. _It is apparent to everyone that things are not . . . well, between you and my daughter._

Jadeite’s expression became sour at that reminder, turning to glare back at the horizon. _Really,_ he sneered somewhat, sarcasm dripping from his mind-voice. _What could have possibly given us away?_

 _My daughter is a proud creature,_ Romulus pronounced carefully. _No doubt it is my own fault, spoiling and coddling her as I have. She is the Queen of a powerful race, knows it, glories in it, and wears that arrogance like a shield oftentimes. No man in the whole of this kingdom relished the thought of taking her for a wife,_ he revealed, then. _I was beginning to despair that I might have to bribe one behind her back, or worse, that she would remain alone and forsaken for the whole of her life. Then you come along, and—though I might chafe at how it all came about—ended up becoming the unexpected answer to all my problems._ Here Rom paused, peering at him, as if trying to pull back the pages of a book to find the answer that eluded him. _You have proven yourself a more than capable leader. A warrior with few equals in this star-system. Intelligent, crafty, patient, compassionate. You’ve faced countless dangers without flinching, standing firm and confidently against terrible odds. And yet, whenever my exasperating daughter stands against you, you turn away in defeat without so much as a struggle. Why is that?_

Jadeite grimaced, his gaze dropping somewhat to stare at the toes of his boots instead. _I am trying my best to acclimate to your laws and customs,_ he admitted slowly, _but on my own planet it is . . . an uncomfortable thing, what you do to discipline your women._

On Mars, the typical punishment for an unruly wife or daughter was lashes—the number varying for the indiscretion—across the back with a reed-like instrument that left bruises and welts, but very rarely ever damaged the skin more than that. Still, Jadeite was certain that the pain involved was not slight. More than that, however, was the emotion involved. It was a punishment meant to cow, to humiliate. The thought of doing that to Raye twisted his stomach into knots.

 _It is not a comfortable thing here, either,_ Romulus countered softly. _Though it is our custom to do so should there be a need, no man relishes the idea of punishing his woman or his child. Yet you cannot allow her to continue to flout you so publically._ Jadeite turned to Romulus and found his gaze hardened with pained resolve. _Your tender feeling for her is a credit, one that I am glad of, but you risk losing all respect—with her and with our people—if you continue to turn away from her and do nothing._

Jadeite could only shake his head, jaw clenched. _I . . . I can’t, Rom. I can’t. She’ll hate me even more than she does already._ Romulus sighed.

 _Aye, mayhap,_ he agreed, and Jadeite’s head hung lower. Yet her father continued, _for a time. When her hurt has had a chance to lessen, howbeit, she will understand._

Jadeite made a face. _Somehow, I seriously doubt that._

Romulus’ eyes narrowed somewhat at that, the shrewd tactical mind that he was known for beginning to turn. _This seems to go beyond the simple distaste for punishment,_ he mused. Jadeite was helpless to keep himself from fidgeting under that stare, like a guilty five year old, and Romulus’ black brows arched curiously. _Something else is staying your hand. What is it?_

Jadeite tried to deny it for a moment longer, but under Rom’s bland stubbornness he was eventually forced to concede. He felt his face getting a little warm. _Rom, this isn’t exactly the easiest thing to talk about with a girl’s father,_ he bit out somewhat painfully, causing the older man to laugh.

 _Raye is my daughter, but she is also a woman, and a wife,_ he assured, still chuckling. _I would be a blind fool to think she yet remained chaste. Speak, Jade. I would know the troubles that haunt you, so that I can somehow help ease them. Both of you are hurting and unhappy,_ he revealed then, tone going solemn once more, _and that knowledge pains me._

It took a moment longer to work up the nerve, but finally Jadeite forced himself to speak. He told Romulus about all that had happened on their wedding night, or an abridged version at least. Jadeite didn’t go into any great detail about the sex, of course; he was uncomfortable enough just giving the bare minimum description. He did describe how he’d merged with her mind, however, and how he blocked her memories to remove her fear. Jadeite didn’t go into any great specifics on her fears either, glossing it over as a typical maiden’s aversion of her first time with a man.

If Raye had not yet revealed the depth of her phantoms to her parents herself, then he wasn’t going to betray that truth. Knowing without knowing that such would be seen as the gravest sort of betrayal in her eyes, and he had enough bad marks on that score to last a lifetime already.

After he was through, Romulus was eying him thoughtfully. _A clever ploy, enhancing the erogenous area of her mind,_ he admitted at last, smirking slightly. _I shall have to remember to try the trick on Delphi in the future._ Then he sighed. _I take it my daughter did not see the wisdom in such a tactic afterward._

Though it wasn’t a question, Jadeite nodded anyway, swallowing with some difficulty. _She said I no better than raped her,_ he admitted slowly, his guilt palpable. _Worse than that, was what dwelled in her mind, though. She feared me,_ Jadeite admitted painfully, _and hated me for it._

Romulus sighed. _And so now you let Raye have her way in anything, too sick with guilt to say even a word against her,_ he guessed, and rightfully so. Jadeite just continued to stare off into the distance, not needing to confirm the other man’s speculations when the answer was so apparent on his drawn and haggard face. _Raye might not seem so—and she would probably never admit it aloud, not even to herself—but she is a very sensitive creature,_ her father revealed then. _What she feels, she feels very deeply. It can be a curse at times, causing her to overreact to even the simplest of things._

Jadeite turned to him with a frown. _I do not think this was an overreaction, Rom._

The older man shook his head. _You did what had to be done, Jadeite. There were a hundred other ways you could have handled the situation. You could have ignored her pain, ignored her fear, and taken her body as was your right with little to no thought to her needs whatsoever. A man of my country would have done no less, perhaps even more so, as her defiance would have been seen as a grave insult that demanded punishment. Yet you went out of your way to soothe her. Made her first bedding as painless and pleasurable as you possibly could. As I said earlier, lad, Raye feels everything deeply. Yes, she would have chafed mightily at being forced—to do anything—and in turn would have resented you for having to do it. Yet my daughter is no fool, Earthling. Once her hurt feelings had a chance to lessen, I am positive she saw your gentle magnanimity for what it was._

Jadeite just snorted at that, highly doubting it. Romulus shook his head, then, straightening from the railing with a sigh and crossing both of his arms across his chest.

 _Do not make the same mistakes that I have done,_ he cautioned as he started for the entrance. _Continue to coddle her, and Raye will walk right over the top of you, Jade. What’s worse, she will never respect you. And my daughter is not a woman who could give her heart to a man she did not at least respect._

Jadeite watched him leave, then shook his head again, wry frown on his face. So apparently then, all he had to do was buck up and punish his wife. Something that—to him and his own people at least—seemed cruel and barbaric. But for some reason doing so here would somehow inspire the Martian’s respect and admiration. Jadeite shook his head again, muttering out a rather foul curse under his breath.

There were times he worried that he might not ever be able to see eye to eye with this alien culture.

“Well that doesn’t sound pleasant,” a feminine voice called out behind him. Recognizing it, Jadeite found himself smirking a little with sardonic humor before straightening from the rail and turning to face her.

A beautiful redhead stood at the entrance to the terrace, hands on her hips and blue eyes flashing with humor. She was Galena, his second. A dear childhood companion that had become something more for a short time in their raging hormonal teens before they both agreed that they were better suited as friends than as lovers.

“Kings aren’t meant to mope about,” she continued teasingly, stepping closer. Jadeite frowned with mock outrage.

“I’m not _moping._ Men don’t mope.”

Galena just laughed. “I beg to differ, sir, but you are _moping_ as we speak.”

“I sure as hell know that Kings aren’t supposed to have to deal with this kind of insolence,” he griped. At that some of her teasing laughter left, replaced by worry.

“I don’t pretend to understand a lot of this planet’s ways,” she murmured, “nor would I presume to try and guess at your personal business, Jade, . . . but it seems you’ve been dealing with quite a bit of that since you returned from the front lines. Insolence, I mean. And most of it unwarranted, from what I can see.”

Jadeite groaned a little. “Damn, Lena, not you too.”

“I just don’t understand it,” Galena shot back. “Sure, you and the Lord King took over the rule of the planet, and forced her to marry you. That sucks, I get it. But even _she_ has to see by now that it was a necessary evil. They’d all be dust by now if we hadn’t stepped in. Being dead has got to be a lot worse than being married to you, even by _her_ standards. You’ve done nothing to her for which she should be so damned hateful.” Her expression eased into another playful smirk then, reaching up to tap him on the chin. “I know the sex can’t be _that_ bad. You were young the last time I had you, but even then it was more than passing fair. And I should hope you’ve picked up a few tricks—and a bit more stamina—by now.”

Jadeite rolled his eyes a little, refusing to let himself start to turn red under Galena’s incessant teasing. “Enough,” he rumbled somewhat petulantly, reaching out to catch the hand that was tormenting him and giving her a little shake before playfully pushing her away. “I’ve got enough damage to my fragile male ego as it is without you adding to it, wench.”

“Understood, sir,” she laughed, giving a mock salute before turning and falling into step with him as he left the terrace. “Just know that whenever you get tired of your Martian shrew damaging that _fine_ ego of yours, remember there’s a perfectly good-looking Earthling woman down the hall ready and willing to soothe it.”

Jadeite grinned. “Thanks Lena,” he managed, tone wry. “I’ll keep that one in mind.”

 

* * *

 

Raye scowled from where she had ducked behind the wall of drapes near-by, watching as Jadeite and his redheaded strumpet exited the terrace, laughing together at what was just said. The Earthling general had just propositioned her husband in broad daylight, as bold as you please. And he said he’d ‘keep it in mind.’ Her violet eyes narrowed. Raye was no fool. She had known from the moment she’d met Lady Galena of Earth that the woman had been intimate with Jadeite in the past. Galena took no pains to hide it, wore that fact proudly like a badge of honor. What she didn’t reveal so openly however was that even now there was more than just friendship that dwelled in her heart concerning their handsome golden-haired Lord. Even without her psychic powers, Raye had eyes in her head and they were perfectly capable of seeing the truth. The young Queen saw the way Galena stared after Jadeite when she thought no one was looking, saw the sad longing in the other woman’s eyes, filled with regret and pained desire.

Galena was still very much in love with Jadeite.

And now, apparently, the man wasn’t adverse to the idea of feeding that need, his binding vows be damned. Against her will, the young Queen found herself imagining them together. That easy camaraderie they held would no doubt make them playful lovers. Jadeite would hold her and laugh with her and be glad to rid himself of the ‘tiresome Martian shrew.’

Raye felt her fists clench until her nails bit into the palms of her hands. She struggled to hold onto the rage and the anger that stirred at the thought of that faithless cur betraying her to his Earthling whore. Fought to convince herself that all she felt at such an occurrence was fury that he would insult her so. That she didn’t suddenly feel like falling to her knees and weeping like a child from the crushing pain and hurt in her chest.

It seemed she now had her reason for why Jadeite seemed so content to ignore any and everything she said and did.

Raye couldn’t rightly say what emotion gripped her the day that he arrived on Mars, caught somewhere between futile anger, fear and breathless anticipation. Terrified that Jadeite would merge with her again and force her to his will and into his bed, even as her breath caught and her body warmed at the thought that he might. Annoyed and furious at herself that she would feel either emotion, but helpless not to feel them at the same time.

But instead of impose his will on her, he did nothing. When she had proclaimed to all and sundry—and loudly—the day that he arrived that she was removing herself to her old suite of rooms and that she would rather sleep naked in the dunes under a noon-day sun than share his bed, he did nothing. When she had insulted his battle prowess, when she had sneered at his ‘inferior’ Earthling origins, scoffed at his inability to grasp some of their customs and ways, he did nothing. Raye had done it all to make herself feel better, at least at first. Trying to get back at him for tossing her life into disorder and chaos, to make him feel as confused and distraught as she herself was feeling. Then, as the weeks passed, her abominable behavior became more of a test than anything else. Raye continued to harass and prod him in one increasingly outlandish fashion after another, desperately trying to get him to do something— _anything—_ other than stare at her in exasperation before turning away from her.

But now, it suddenly occurred to Raye that the reason _why_ Jadeite said and did nothing against her could very well be because he simply didn’t care. He had his beautiful fire-haired general to ease his troubles, after all. Why bother wasting his time on her? An ungrateful, unmanageable, ‘shrew’ of a Martian?

 _You cannot sit on the throne of my Kingdom without me, you faithless sonofabitch,_ she thought to herself scathingly, blinking back the tears that tried to stab at her eyes. Let him try and set her aside or, worse, carry on with his Earthling wench right beneath her nose. If Jadeite thought that life was difficult _now,_ then he truly had no idea just how ‘shrewish’ she could really be.

Raye turned away then, and headed for the rooms that she’d banished herself to. Thoughts of vengeance and reprisal kept her scowling all through her preparations for bed. She scowled down at her bath water as if everything was somehow its fault, and then nearly tore the fastenings on her gown when dressing afterward. Even after the last of the servants had left, and the comforting room of her childhood had fallen to peaceful darkness, the Queen continued to brood. Angry and hurt and confused as to why she should be feeling them. Raye planted a vengeful fist into one of her pillows, trying to ignore the wetness dripping down her nose.

 _I hate you,_ she thought spitefully, scowling into the darkness. Jadeite was at the root of all of her problems. He made her feel like a complete maniac, and act worse. She wanted to hate him. She _did_ hate him. He took away her Kingdom, her choices. So why did the thought of him laying with Galena make her _ache_ so?

These and other worries and confusions continued to roll and twist around in her mind until she fell into a fitful sleep. And, unfortunately, when Raye’s mind did finally give into dreams, she was pulled into an all-too-familiar terror. One that had haunted her nights for as long as she could remember.

_She was running. She was always running. The familiar rooms and corridors that she knew so well had become an awful, inescapable maze. Raye panted feebly, terrified, twisting this way and that, darting futilely down more and more passageways trying to find a way out. Because He was right behind her. Toying with her. Enjoying her fear. Feeding off of it like a delicacy._

_Raye eventually stumbled into a dead-end, letting out a panting sob of frustration. She screamed out her denial, sobbing, beating at the wall that blocked her with curled fists. It refused to disappear. The course of the vision refused to change, no matter how much she willed it to do otherwise. When a large pair of hands grabbed her from behind, just like they always did, she screamed shrilly in equal parts rage and terror. No matter how hard she fought, or how much she struggled, the end result was always the same. She was pinned to the ground by a cruel, painful grip. Unable to move, unable to get free as her clothes were torn from her body. The agony came then, and the horror, as her phantom tormentor began to rape her. Again and again. Always the same. Her hoarse screams of pain, pleading for him to let her go, crying out for someone to save her. It was always the same voice that answered her. That awful, sneering, hated voice grating and panting in her ear. Laughing at her pain and fear, assuring her that no one would ever come to save her. That she was his plaything for all eternity. And she would never, ever escape him._

Raye thrashed and screamed and cried, begging to be free. It took her a long moment to realize that she was no longer dreaming. That she was awake, back in her room on Mars. But someone was still pinning her down.

“Raye! Come on, baby, wake up! _Wake up!_ Raye!”

Slowly, the fog of terror started to recede, releasing its grip on Raye’s consciousness. Her frenzied thrashing slowed, until she lay very still in the bed, panting heavily and covered in sweat. Her long dark hair was a mass of tangles around her head from tossing it back and forth, her violet eyes still somewhat wide and panicky as remnants of the nightmare continued to linger. Shuddering and breathing hard, Raye slowly blinked until she was able to focus on her surroundings again. Namely the sight of Jadeite leaning over the top of her, pinning her arms to the bed at either side of her head. His chest was bare, dressed in a pair of thin cotton pants he no doubt slept in. His blue eyes were sharp as they searched hers, tanned face pulled into an expression that seemed torn somewhere between worry and building anger.

“Raye?”

Still shaking, she attempted to grasp at some semblance of her normal bluster. “I’m awake,” she managed, though rather than short and abrupt, her hoarse voice came out more of a trembling whimper. Raye cleared her throat and tried again. “You can get off of me now.”

For a moment Raye thought he would ignore her. Part of her desperately hoped that he would. His touch, his nearness, was helping chase away the last bits of her nightmare better than anything else ever had, helping to remind her what was real and solid, rather than dwelling on the phantom terrors of her subconscious. Yet her pride would never let her tell him so, and after another moment of peering down at her to ascertain whether or not she was really alright, Jadeite sat up and drew away from her like she’d asked.

Raye felt the absence immediately, shivering anew as a chill raced across her flesh.

“What in the hell was that?” he demanded at length, voice hushed—since the hour was still late it seemed. Her terrace window showed the inky blackness of full-night beyond, the two moons still high overhead.

Raye sat up herself, trying to find a level ground in order to recover. She shoved her long hair away from her face when it tried to tumble forward, stoutly ignoring the way her hands still shook. “Nothing,” she tried, tone bland. “A silly nightmare, that’s all.”

“Play hell,” Jadeite snapped back, tone rough. Raye turned to give him a slight glare, but was startled to see the beginnings of a hot fury in his deep blue eyes. “That was no simple dream, wife,” he growled. “That was too real. Too powerful. A dream would not have called to me or woke me up out of a sound sleep.”

Raye swallowed a little, inwardly stunned that he had felt her distress. And had apparently rushed to her aide, without really knowing the reason behind it. To save her. At long last, someone had finally heard her cries for help, and answered. The rush of warmth that flooded her chest at that thought made her weak for a moment. “I . . . am sorry,” she managed after a moment, tone softer. “I did not mean to disturb you—,”

Instead of gratitude, Jadeite scowled deeper. “Enough, Raye,” he snapped impatiently. “I don’t give a damn about that! Tell me what this was!” He stared at her hard, as if the strength of his gaze would force her to speak. “Tell me who raped you,” he growled low then, revealing that he already knew the nature of her night terrors—had no doubt just been party to some of it while he tried to rouse her. “I want to know the bastard’s name. Now.”

Despite her lingering nightmares or the even more confusing, softer emotions she was currently feeling, Raye still somehow managed to work up a convincing scowl of exasperation. “No one has raped me,” she bit out. She almost spitefully added _except you,_ but in the face of his recent gallantry she managed to hold back the impulse. “You know full well that I was virgin on my wedding night, and no other man has touched me since you.”

Raye met his long, silent stare afterward, watching him as his dark eyes roved across her face, restlessly trying to glean the answers he sought. He didn’t attempt to touch his mind to hers, however, even though—in that moment—Raye left herself completely unguarded and open to a merge. More than willing to share herself with him, knowing that Jadeite’s stubborn strength could help utterly banish what little was left of the horrible nightmare she still felt. Yet he had promised her months ago that he would never do that again, and held true to that declaration now.

And Raye was too much of a coward to take that first step herself.

“That wasn’t just a dream,” Jadeite repeated adamantly, and Raye sighed. Her gaze fell away from him, staring at the darkened walls of her bedroom instead as she wrapped her arms around herself to try and ward away the chill.

“No,” she agreed after a long moment. “It wasn’t. I . . . I have had the same . . . _vision_. . . ever since I turned thirteen.”

“Gods,” he muttered, tone horrified. Raye sighed.

“I told you once that women in my family have premonitions of the future,” she murmured slowly, voice low. “It is no simple nightmare that I have, but it is not a clear vision either. It is a glimpse,” she heaved. “Of what might be, could become.”

“It occurs to me that the bastard won’t be able to do a damned thing if he’s already dead,” Jadeite growled, expression deadly. Obviously meaning everything he said. Raye managed to roll her eyes at his melodrama however, sighing again.

“I never see his face,” she revealed. “It is always in shadow, hidden from me. I only know his voice.” She shuddered a little again in thinking of it, then shoved it away once more. “So your bloodlust will have to wait until after the deed is done.”

Her voice had become somewhat deadpan at that, feeling a terrible sense of finality that she couldn’t seem to shake free of. Her gaze had fallen away, so she was a little startled when Jadeite suddenly took her chin in his hand and made her look back up at him.

“Nobody is ever going to touch you like that,” he pronounced then, tone fierce. Blue eyes almost glowing with it. _“Nobody.”_

Raye felt her breath catch in her throat at that. She stared up at him for a long moment, suddenly becoming more than aware of the fact that they were alone in her bed, that she was only wearing her thin lavender nightgown. Became intensely aware of how the low-burning flames in the braziers above them brought out the golden fire of his curly hair, casting the bare, broad muscle that made up his powerful torso in stark relief. Raye clenched her fists in the blankets pooled around her waist as his thumb carefully skimmed the line of her chin and jaw. Watched his dark blue eyes fall away from her own stare, centering on her mouth instead. Which parted somewhat tremblingly on a tiny gasp while he watched. All Jadeite had to do was lean forward. Cover her mouth with his, kiss her into utter oblivion like she knew he could. And Raye would welcome that kiss. She _ached_ for it, in that moment. All he had to do was take that first step.

Apparently, however, he was too much of a coward now, too.

Jadeite pulled away from her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, clearing his throat somewhat heavily and turning to the side before getting to his feet and moving away entirely. Raye just stared at his turned back, at a loss as to what she should do. What _could_ she do, to make him stay. Other than say the words her pride would never let her utter.

“I should . . . I’ll leave you be,” Jadeite muttered, clearly uncomfortable now. He started for the exit, without looking back. “Goodnight Raye.” A moment later and the door closed softly behind him.

Slowly, a single tear welled from her violet eyes and slowly snaked its way down the curve of her cheek. “Goodnight,” she whispered back into the silent room, grieving for that emptiness. And heartsick with the knowledge that she had no one to thank for it but herself.


	22. Painful Transitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't use "Homecoming - Name" for chapter titles anymore . . . dangit.

Serenity took a deep and fortifying breath, willing herself to try and remain calm. It wasn’t easy.

“Celestine, didn’t I ask you to find Diana and send her to me?”

The dark-haired serving girl turned from dusting the mantle in the great hall, giving the young Queen a cool look. It might not have reflected so openly on her face, but the sneer of dislike was there in the depths of her brown eyes as she stared a hole right through Serenity’s head.

“Did you?” the girl murmured breezily. “So sorry, m’lady. It must have slipped my mind.”

Serenity grit her teeth, fighting to remain civil. “But I asked you only a moment ago.”

“Sorry, m’lady,” another servant, a footman named Halite, stepped in coolly as he hauled a bucket of ash from the fireplace. His face too was a practice of bland vapidity, belied by the stark hatred in his pale blue gaze. “Celestine’s always been a bit of a scatterbrain,” he covered. “Nothin’ for it, I’m afraid.”

Feeling somewhat ganged-up on, Serenity swallowed with some difficulty before she took a step backward. _Never betray yourself,_ her mother always cautioned, _especially in front of your staff. They must see you strong, never weak._ “It’s fine,” she found herself mumbling. “Just . . . try and remember in the future. I will go and find her myself.”

With that Serenity turned on her heel and quit the room. Her steps faltered only a little as the sounds of soft snickering hit her ears from behind her. The Lunaran lifted her chin however, refusing to be cowed, and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster.

Almost two months had passed since she had come to live here on Earth with Endymion, and life had thrown her some rather unexpected complications during that time. Foremost among them would be the animosity and defiance she continued to struggle with among the servants. Oh, there were some who didn’t mind her. Maltha, for example. The older woman—who was in charge of the palace staff, a Head Maid of sorts—was nice and very motherly in a way. And Emery, the captain of the guard, was pleasant enough, if a bit gruff. However, everyone else seemed unwilling or unable to ignore or forget the fact that she was Lunaran. They all seemed determined to take all of their prejudices and grudges out on her, the fact that she was their Queen notwithstanding.

They of course never said or did anything against her while Endymion was around, or anyone else with any sort of authority over them. Serenity herself had not mentioned it either. Part of her was determined to deal with this problem on her own, without anyone’s help, proving to herself and others that she was capable of doing so. She had been convinced at first that the animosity would quickly pass, once they saw that there was no reason for it. Serenity tried her hardest to be as kind and forgiving as she possibly could, but as the months wore on and the behavior didn’t show any signs of changing, she was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

The other reason why Serenity didn’t want to tell Endymion about all of this was because she just wasn’t sure how he would react to it. Part of her feared he would try and downplay it or, worse, simply wouldn’t care at all.

They had spent two months together, sleeping in the same bed—and frequently doing _other_ things in that same bed besides—but in some ways Serenity still felt like a stranger to her husband. Endymion was always kind and considerate of her, but absently. During the daylight hours he was always so busy, she very rarely ever saw him until well after supper. And after that he usually never left enough time for words or conversation, coaxing her into bed instead to try and satisfy his seemingly never-ending craving for her. While his touch continued to thrill her senseless in that regard, Serenity began to fear that the physical closeness she shared with him was all that her husband was ever going to allow himself. He never spoke of how he might feel about her, other than the fact that he liked her body, apparently. Serenity felt her cheeks heat a little, even now, thinking about some of the things that he’d told her these past few weeks, the wicked praise that he’d given. In that regard at least, Endy wasn’t at all shy.

Serenity would have long ago admitted to having developed a much softer emotion toward him, if he would only give her some hint that he might feel the same. As it was, she was too afraid to speak up, too uncertain as to how he would take such words, something in her somehow knowing that it wouldn’t be the reaction that she craved.

So now Serenity was struggling to convince herself that what she had with Endymion would be enough. Instead of dwell on that, she was focusing on her rebellious palace staff. Unfortunately she wasn’t making very much headway in that regard either.

Serenity sighed now, moving through the halls of the palace as she tried to track down her wayward companion. It seemed that Diana was taking to disappearing a lot, lately, though the young Queen had yet to figure out exactly why, or to where.

A moment later Serenity turned a corner and then very nearly ran right over the top of the silver-haired changeling. Both girls let out slight cries of shock and then stumbled backward. Serenity was the first to recover, and her eyes widened a little in disbelief at the sight before her. A few months ago, she would have been too naïve and innocent to recognize the signs, but now—after having experienced them herself more than once—Serenity suddenly picked up on the subtle clues.

Diana’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink, her silver hair slightly mussed, dress somewhat askew. Her mouth was also reddened, swollen, as if she’d just been thoroughly kissed in the very recent past. In light of this, Serenity suddenly put the pieces of the puzzle together. Apparently Diana had a beau here on Earth. And had so far managed to keep it a complete secret from one and all. Including herself. That thought immediately made Serenity scowl with affront. That _had_ to be a crime somewhere, keeping such a monumental secret from one’s best friend.

“You’re seeing someone!” she accused after recovering enough to speak.

Diana gaped at her for a solid minute, eyes wide and cheeks flushing a darker red. “I am not!” she tried to sputter in denial, but Serenity wasn’t buying it.

“Either you’re seeing someone, or you just got done rolling around on the ground for no reason,” she shot back affirmatively. Then she gave a small little cry of outrage. “I can’t believe you kept this from me!”

Diana fidgeted a moment longer, then let out a long sigh and a groan. “It’s . . . complicated, Sere,” she finally admitted, tone grudging.

“Hah!” the young Queen crowed. “I _knew_ it! Who is he?” she then demanded, excited. “Do I know him?”

“Please, Sere,” Diana murmured, raising a forestalling hand. “I’ll let you know just as soon as I figure it out for myself.”

Serenity winced, feeling a flash of sympathy. “It seems I’m not the only one troubled on that score, I suppose.” That made Diana’s eyebrows lift.

“Are you and the Lord King having trouble?” she questioned, tone surprised. “You’ve seemed happy enough.” Here the changeling winced. “Though, these past few weeks I’ve been more distracted than usual. I’m sorry, Sere—,”

Serenity shook her head, interrupting her friend and giving Diana a smile and a reassuring half-hug instead. “There’s nothing for you to feel sorry for. The last thing I would want to do is to begrudge you your own romance.” She sighed a little after that, motioning absently for Diana to follow her as she began in another direction, which the other girl did readily. “As for me . . . it’s hard to say.” The young Queen stared off somewhat pensively. “I’m still not sure what his true feelings are about me. I mean, outside of the bedroom that is,” she amended with a slight blush, to which Diana smiled faintly. Serenity shook her head. “We hardly say more than a handful of words to each other during the daylight hours. And that’s when I actually get the chance to _see_ him at all, which is rare. It seems there are always meetings that must be held, defenses that need overseen, soldiers to train. I would almost think that he doesn’t care for me at all, if not for the night.” The girl tugged somewhat absently at one of her bun-tails, making a face half in exasperation, half in nervous humor. “At night Endymion can seem . . . well . . . down-right greedy for me.” That caused Diana to giggle, which Serenity echoed as well for a moment before that fell into another worried sigh. “It’s not that I don’t _mind_ the attention. It’s just . . . .”

“A man’s passion and lust are no true indicator of any deeper feeling,” Diana finished suddenly when Serenity herself trailed off, her tone strangely sad. Hinting that she perhaps was speaking from experience as well. Serenity just nodded, as that was the exact worry that had been plaguing her. Unfortunately her best source of advice seemed as confused on the subject as she was. She couldn’t imagine herself asking her mother about this, and she wasn’t sure any of her other friends would be much help either. Not a one of them seemed to be in any true accord with their own husbands—not even gentle Ami—so Serenity was loathe to add to their troubles by heaping on her own.

Finally the Queen just resolved to forget about it for now. Instead she looped her arm in Diana’s and gave her companion a brighter smile. “I’m glad I ran into you—literally,” she chortled. “I was just looking for you.”

“Oh?” Diana questioned, and Serenity generously ignored the way the Mauian’s cheeks bloomed a deeper shade of pink for a heartbeat or two. “What did you need?”

“Mother has sent my armoire from Lunara, finally,” she pronounced, then sighed. “The technicians on her end insist that it was delivered, but no one here on Earth seems to remember it arriving, or where it might be now.” Her tone became worried as she finished, wringing her hands somewhat. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered so terribly, but the armoire she spoke of had been a gift from her father before he died. It was one of the few things she still had from him, and as a result the wardrobe was more than just a piece of furniture to her, but rather a very treasured heirloom.

Knowing that, Diana winced in sympathy. She frowned thoughtfully afterward. “I haven’t seen or heard anything about it myself,” she murmured. “Maybe we should ask one of the servants—,”

“We’ll have better luck looking for it ourselves,” Serenity cut in somewhat bitterly, causing Diana to scowl.

“Are they _still_ giving you grief, Sere?” At her moody silence, the changeling let out a small growl. “You need to do something about this, Serenity. Lunaran or no, you are married to their King. You are their _Queen._ They should be affording you the respect due that station, whether they like you or not. And as to that,” she continued scathingly, “you’ve given them absolutely no excuse to be treating you this way. You’ve gone out of your way to be nice to these backwater heathens. It’s ridiculous for them to hold you at fault for something that you had absolutely no control over! Prejudiced bastards!”

“Diana,” Serenity chided in a sharp whisper, but the Mauian remained unfazed and unapologetic, red eyes blazing.

“Well, it’s the truth,” she defended herself stubbornly.

“Just help me find my armoire for now, Di,” Serenity sighed at that. “We’ll talk more about the other problem later.”

Diana grudgingly conceded, and with her help Serenity began searching the more obvious locations throughout the palace. The more the search wore on, however, the more nervous Serenity became.

“Are you certain you haven’t seen it?” she questioned a somewhat fidgety guardsman by the name of Kainite. “It’s only about four feet high, made of Phaetonian skywood, painted silver. It has golden crescent moons carved in the doors. Please, my father made it for me when I was a little girl, it’s very precious to me.” The man just shook his head again. Diana, at her side, suddenly scowled however.

“You’re lying.” The soldier seemed to jump in place.

“Here now,” he began in a huff, but Diana stepped forward, jabbing him in the chest with one of her sharp nails.

“I’m Mauian, you idiot, I can _smell_ the lie coming off of you like a stink. Now, either you tell us where it is, or we can go disturb the Lord King from his council meeting and have _him_ settle this matter.”

Kainite’s face paled a few more shades. He glanced around, then sighed. Serenity’s heart dropped another foot or two as his expression became pitying. “Alright,” he murmured, “I do know where it is, but . . . it’s not a pretty sight.”

Her fists tightened in her skirts. “What’s wrong with it?”

Kainite raised his hands. “I didn’t do it,” he insisted, “I-I just ran across it earlier this morning when I was putting some stores away.”

“Show me.”

“Ah . . . perhaps it would be better if—,”

_“Now.”_

The soldier straightened immediately at her tone. “At once, m’lady,” he murmured, then turned and began leading them off down the corridor. When their steps turned toward the basement level of the castle, her chest constricted in pained dread, which only increased the further they went and the air around them became cold and terribly damp.

Finally they turned the last corner, and what she saw then caused Serenity to gasp aloud and nearly take a step back in horrified disbelief. She almost didn’t feel Diana suddenly reach out to grasp her hands in a comforting grip, her whole body now drowned in shock.

The beautiful, delicate armoire that her father had made for her as a child looked as though it had served for firewood for the past day and a half. Both of the doors had been hacked completely off, the sides covered in deep gouges and scratches, the bottom completely warped and stained now from sitting in the damp and unforgiving basement. It was ruined. Utterly, irrevocably destroyed. One of the very last things she had left of her beloved father, gone forever.

Serenity’s wide blue eyes slowly filled with tears, spilling down each pallid cheek as she struggled to come to grips with the horror in front of her.

Nearby, the soldier shifted his weight nervously. “I . . . I’m awfully sorry, milady,” he offered then, if somewhat lamely.

“Who,” she choked out, interrupted by a small sob before she forced herself to continue. “Who did this?”

“I don’t—,” Serenity turned to Kainite and pinned him to the spot with her reddened, watery stare. “Ah . . . I think it was Celestine, m’lady.”

Serenity stood in place for a moment longer, staring at the destruction in front of her, the pain and anger in her chest swelling until she thought she might burst. Then she suddenly spun on her heel and began stalking back out of the basement. Diana and Kainite fell into step, scrambling somewhat to keep up.

“Serenity?” the Mauian girl questioned somewhat tentatively. “Sere, what are you gonna do?”

“I’ll let you know when I get there,” she growled fiercely through her tears.

 

* * *

 

“I’ll be convening an offical meeting of the Silver Alliance in a few weeks,” Endymion pronounced to the four holographic images floating in front of him. The Lord King himself was seated in his study, lounging somewhat in the overstuffed chair. The faces of Malachite, Zoisite, Nephrite and Jadeite all nodded in recognition. “In the mean time, I—,”

Endymion was cut short as the door to his study was suddenly thrown open, and Jorowyn stormed inside. Late, as usual. What was more interesting was the fact that the Phaetonian was looking rather . . . flustered.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me,” the slender man snapped testily before Endymion even had the chance to open his mouth to speak. “I’m perfectly fine, _nothing_ is going on, so don’t pester me about it.” With that Jorowyn threw himself somewhat into a chair, arms crossing in clear adgitation. Endymion’s eyebrow lifted high.

“Nice of you to join us, Jorowyn,” he murmured slowly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, reaching into his back pocket and yanking out his customary flask. “Just get on with it already,” Jorowyn continued, before taking a long and vengeful drink of his poison of choice.

“Are his pants fastened this time, Endy?” Zoisite suddenly demanded, amusement readily apparent in his tone. “Make sure he managed to do them up right this time. He was practically falling out of them the last time I saw him.”

Nephrite gaped. “Wait, what? Jorowyn’s got a lover?”

“I know, it’s hard to believe,” Zoisite continued to tease. “I cannot imagine what kind of woman would brave his drunken breath, but the images I’m coming up with aren’t comforting.”

“Ha, ha,” Jorowyn snapped, while the others either chuckled or gave questioning stares at the now faintly red-faced Phaetonian. “At least I’m not too much of a coward to go bed my wife, Mr. Separate Bedrooms.”

Now it was Zoisite’s turn to color uncomfortably, while Jadeite snickered at his expense. Ever loyal to his cousin, Jorowyn turned his glare onto the Martian King then. “You’ve got no room to laugh, Gelding King. I don’t even wanna hear it out of you.” Jadeite growled testily at that, and Endymion sighed.

“Enough,” he called, ending the argument before it could really get going. He sighed then, turning to the still-bristling Phaetonian. “I just mentioned that we’ll be convening an official Alliance council in a few weeks. I hope to be able to announce the next Regent of Pluto there.” If Jorowyn’s expression had been disgruntled before, it became downright unpleasant now.

“I’ve already told you no, Endymion. Leave it be.”

“You are the next heir to the throne, Jorowyn,” Malachite countered coolly. “You have a duty to that station.”

“I had a duty to a throne, once,” he countered bitterly. “It got _blown up._ Forgive me if I’m not terribly eager to go sit my ass in another one. One that, may I remind you, belongs to a planet of pretentious bastards who could’ve very easily altered one of the greatest tragedies our solar-system has ever seen and _didn’t,_ all on the account of some out-dated, ridiculous religion!”

One of the servant women suddenly entered on silent feet, a tray of refreshments in her hands. Neither men noticed her, as she’d been trained very well to go about her duties while being as unobtrusive as possible.

“We all have nothing but sympathy for what happened to Phaeton, Jorowyn,” Endymion countered softly, “you know that. I also realize that you have made—and continue to make—several sacrifices on our behalf in order to keep things running smoothly. But I must ask you to make one more for me, old friend,” he murmured then, tone soft. Jorowyn scowled under it, shifting his weight in the chair and frowning moodily at the huge desk that separated them. “Pluto cannot remain leaderless. It will be like blood in the water to the remaining Youma, enticing them to try and take root there once more. I need someone strong in charge out there, Jorowyn. Someone I can trust to make sure that things are done right.”

Jorowyn scowled downward for a long, painful moment. Then he lifted up again, pale eyes hard and—for a moment—shockingly clear of the alcoholic haze that normally clouded them. “Fine, Endy. For you, I’ll see to Pluto and its defenses.” He raised a finger then, expression fierce. “But I _will not take the throne._ I will _not_ be the next King of Pluto. I’ll hold it in trust until Trista whelps herself a kid, but that’s as far as I’ll go. Do not ask any more than that of me.”

Glad for that concession at least, Endymion readily nodded in agreement. At that, Jorowyn lapsed back into his usual grumpy mutterings, taking a drink every now and then from his flask and otherwise remaining a silent observer for the rest of the meeting.

“I will see you all in a few weeks’ time,” Endymion called after a while, drawing it to a close. He turned toward Malachite’s image then with a faintly teasing smirk. “I will be eager to see proof of this supposed heir that Mal has managed to breed with my own eyes.” The others chuckled or smiled, while Malachite just sighed somewhat warily. “I am very happy for you, my friend,” Endymion assured then, before he added, “though there were times in the past that I worried you wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman when the time came—,”

“Until the Council, my lord,” Malachite interrupted firmly, expression bland, somewhat belying the faintly amused twinkle in his gray eyes. A moment later and his image flickered away. Laughing amongst themselves, the other three were soon to follow suit.

“He almost had a sense of humor,” Jorowyn suddenly commented after a moment, a wicked smirk on his face. “I’m appalled.” Endymion just chuckled at that, starting to get to his feet.

He froze behind his desk, however, when the door to his study was suddenly tossed open, crashing against the opposite wall with a loud thud. Jorowyn was on his feet and turned around to the potential threat a split second later, a brilliant green shard of crystal half-formed into a katana blade in one fist. The Phaetonian stilled again as the intruders entered, however, and revealed that they were not youma or some other threat.

Rather, Endymion’s expression pulled into a frown as his slender wife marched into his study, her expression thunderous and streaked in tears, her blue eyes reddened and swollen with the same. She was followed closely by her silver-haired companion, Diana, and one of his guardsmen hung back in the doorway, looking torn between apprehension and disbelief.

“Serenity,” he called, confused and even a touch worried, “what—,”

Yet his pretty Queen ignored him completely. Instead she continued stalking inside and brushed past him, making for the servant girl instead. Endymion blinked in startled confusion as the normally sweet-natured, soft-spoken Serenity hauled back and slapped Celestine right across the face. The other girl stumbled back, hitting the wall behind her, but Serenity kept coming. The Queen grabbed her by the neck of her service dress and gave her a vicious shake.

“I ought to have you whipped, you spiteful witch!” Serenity half-sobbed, seemingly ignoring the servant’s somewhat futile attempts to defend herself. “Have you _any_ idea what you’ve done?! Did you even stop to care at all what that wardrobe meant to me?! Or did you only care about hurting me as much as possible, no matter that I have never done _anything_ to _any_ of you!” Serenity gave the servant another vengeful shake. “I’ve tried so hard to be nice and forgiving to you lot, and _this_ is how you repay my kindness!”

Celestine finally managed to wrench herself free, and the hateful glare she suddenly gave his wife caused Endymion to stiffen, eyes narrowing. “Your _kindness_ is a slap in the face, you Lunaran bi—,”

“Enough!” he suddenly snapped, his deep voice echoing through the room like a thunderclap. Both women jerked and whirled to him, then. The servant blanched, face paling, while Serenity’s own expression became drawn and uncertain. Celestine made to start inching out of the room, and Endymion’s scowl deepened. “Jorowyn,” was all he growled. Not needing to be prodded further, the equally-annoyed Phaetonian snatched up the servant by the arm faster than an adder strike, easily restraining her when she let out a slight yelp and made to pull away.

“Now,” he heaved, tone deceptively even. “Tell me just what in the hell is going on here.”

The spark of temper had left her, it seemed, and Serenity fidgeted instead under his hot stare. She bit her lip. “I . . . I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—,”

“They ruined her armoire,” Diana suddenly interrupted. Serenity turned to give her a pleading look but the Mauian ignored it, meeting Endymion’s hardened gaze stubbornly. “For the past two months your people have been nothing but nasty and insulting to my poor mistress, my lord,” she pronounced then. “Sere begged me not to speak of it, but this latest stunt has gone too far. Her mother sent Serenity the wardrobe her father made for her when she was little, and this—this . . . _creature,”_ the slender girl finally hissed, unable to come up with anything better, “had it put in the basement. Had it chopped to pieces. Utterly ruined and destroyed. Just to hurt Serenity, when she’s done nothing but try and be patient and understanding with them.”

Endymion turned his gaze to Serenity, who was staring at him in a lost, almost forlorn sort of way. “Is this all true?” he demanded at length. She swallowed a little, then nodded. At that moment Endymion was struggling with a whole world of fury, but not entirely sure just who it was directed against. “And yet you said nothing,” he growled, and she flinched.

“I just . . . I didn’t think it was so bad, and I thought,” her lips started trembling, more tears welling up in those huge blue eyes of hers, “I-I thought I could get them to like me on my own.”

“It has nothing to do with liking you,” he bit out, “and every bit to do with respecting you as _my_ wife.” He swung his gaze over to Celestine, who was cowering somewhat in Jorowyn’s unforgiving grip, then he turned to glare at the soldier. “Show me where it is.”

The guard jerked straight and turned away at once to lead him out of the study, with the rest of the room trailing after him. After they finally arrived, and Endymion took in the carnage with his own eyes, his fists slowly tightened until his knuckles bled white.

“Get her out of here,” he hissed through his teeth to Jorowyn, not taking his eyes off of the ruined armoire. “I don’t care where you put her, just get her out of my sight.”

“My lord!” Celestine suddenly yelped shrilly when a thunderous Jorowyn made to yank her out. “You can’t _banish_ me! Not over a _Lunaran!”_

Endymion swung around at that, and the expression on his face caused the girl to choke into silence, her face going a few more shades too pale.

“That _Lunaran_ you’re so fond of sneering at is _my wife._ My _Queen._ By insulting her, you insult _me._ You degrade _me._ A crime akin to High Treason. So you are very, _very_ lucky I am only having your hateful presence removed from my home,” he snarled, “rather than led out in chains and fed to the Youma in the hills! Now _get out of my sight!”_

Jorowyn drug the now stricken woman from the basement then. Endymion turned to the guard next. “You spread the word,” he pronounced somewhat imperiously. “I have fought and bled for our people on too many battlefields to tolerate this kind of petty insult. Anyone who continues to hold a grudge against my wife due to the place of her birth will share Celestine’s fate outside the city walls. Do I make myself clear?” Kainite nodded somewhat shakily, then darted out of the basement when Endymion gave a slight toss of his head to indicate that he should leave.

Endymion sighed then, staring down at Serenity as she hovered nearby gazing on her ruined heirloom. Though he hated to admit to the tenderness that he held for the slender woman, he couldn’t help but act on it in the face of her pitiful countenance.

“I’ll have it remade, sweeting,” he murmured somewhat gruffly, then. “Every inch of it. I promise.”

She blew out a shaky sigh, shaking her head a little and reaching up to wipe away the few tears that had fallen loose again. Both of them somewhat forgot about Diana, who made herself silent and scarce near the edge of the room. “Thank you for the thought, but it can’t be fixed,” she murmured softly. “It was made of Phaetonian skywood. Quite impossible to replace, I’m afraid.”

Endymion’s expression tightened. “I’m sorry, Sere.” She tried to shrug at that.

“It’s fine, Endymion. It’s just a piece of furniture. I’ll get over it.”

Endymion reached out at that, gently taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. “It’s not just a piece of furniture,” he countered firmly. “And you shouldn’t have to ‘get over it.’ This should never have happened.” He held her wide blue eyes, his own fierce and hard. “If anyone should ever treat you with anything other than the utmost respect in the future, you tell me immediately,” he admonished then. She hesitated only a fraction of a moment before nodding obediently.

Unable to help himself in the face of those still-wet blue eyes, Endymion bent slightly and brushed a kiss to her mouth. Gentle and sweet, an unspoken apology of a sort. One that she readily accepted, nuzzling closer with a tiny, murmuring sigh. Endymion found himself lingering a little afterward as well, loathe to let her go, but eventually forced himself to do just that. He strode from the basement with determined steps then, expression equally resolute. It seemed his people were in need of a few reminders as to what constituted acceptable behavior in his Kingdom.

And he also needed to speak with Jorowyn about managing to pull off a miracle.

 

* * *

 

Deep within the obsidian palace of Nemesis, Lord Diamond sat somewhat negligently on his throne and eyed the emissary in front of him with a cool stare. “And why should I agree to your plan?” he demanded after a moment, deep voice bland and almost bored, belying the calculating gleam in his lavender eyes.

“Should you decide to assist my Lord Chaos,” the scaled, robed creature returned, “the rewards to yourself and your Kingdom will be . . . substantial. And your own Kingdom would be left untouched, of course,” the youma assured with a somewhat greasy smile, “in the onslaught that would ensue. The Silver Alliance will fall, my Lord Diamond. I urge you to make the right decision, and ensure that your people do not share the same fate.”

“Careful how you step, friend,” the blue-haired warrior at Diamond’s side suddenly snapped, tone testy. “You presume much.” The creature immediately bowed low.

“Forgive me, my lords,” he murmured. “Please, consider my words. My Lord does not require an answer right away. He is more than willing to allow you to think about all you might gain from an alliance with the most powerful force in this system.” The youma grinned then, revealing a maw of gleaming, razor-sharp teeth. “I will leave you to your musings, my lords. Please summon me once you have reached a decision.”

With that, the red-scaled creature disappeared in a puff of noxious smoke.

“Bah,” Sapphire suddenly growled as soon as it was gone, swinging to pin his older brother with a frown. “I do not like it, Diamond. It stinks of betrayal.”

Diamond frowned pensively, rubbing at his chin. Meanwhile a slightly stooped, robed figure emerged from the other side of the throne. “What else would you have us do, my Prince,” the man—called Wiseman—questioned softly. Sapphire scowled down at the figure, distrust and dislike obvious in his expression. Wiseman was unfazed by it. “Shall we take up with the Alliance? Your father proved that that route will only end in disaster. Shall we continue to do nothing? That will only prolong our demise, for surely Chaos will turn his attentions to Nemesis once he has finished utterly destroying everyone else.” Wiseman turned to Diamond then. “I urge you to accept his offer, my Lord. It is the best course of action before us. Ally with the eventual victor of this conflict, and assure that our people remain safe. It is far better to be at the right hand of the devil,” he murmured softly then, almost seductively, “than in his path.”

Sapphire could only gaze on helplessly as his brother eventually nodded, getting to his feet. “Very well, Wiseman. Contact the emissaries, let them know that we accept Chaos’ offer. On one condition.” His lavender eyes became fierce, even slightly crazed. “When all is said and done, Serenity is _mine.”_


	23. Dark Pasts and Brighter Futures

Mina sighed somewhat heavily as she roamed about the grounds, Zaire faithfully trailing at her side. Even after Malachite had returned, the cat refused to leave her. Her husband had been somewhat flabbergasted by it at first, but after a week or so he gave up trying to separate them. She even overheard him mentioning to his uncle that he was actually somewhat glad she had the cat with her, for protection. Though Mina wasn’t entirely sure if he meant that for _her_ specifically, or as the incubator of their unborn child. More than likely the latter.

The blonde chewed at her lower lip, lost a little into her own thoughts as she meandered, one hand absently rubbing across her swollen middle. Her son was still strong and healthy, according to the healers, everything developing normally. And still as rambunctious as ever, bruising more than one of her ribs these past few weeks. The baby wasn’t what was causing her current state of absent-minded brooding, however. Rather his _father_ was the sole cause of that, unsurprisingly.

Mina moved through the gardens on bare, silent feet for another few moments, but eventually the sharp sounds of arguing reached her ears. At her side Zaire tensed, his head lifting sharply and letting out a disgruntled rumble at the disturbance. Mina herself frowned a little, though she reached out to lay a calming hand on the white beast’s head.

“Easy boy,” she murmured softly, soothing him. The young Queen blew out a sigh then, having already guessed the source of the shouting. “It’s just my mother and Alexandrite. Again.”

Sure enough, after the two of them continued a little farther along the path, they came across the pair. Deep into yet another heated argument, probably over something minor and ridiculous. Mina winced as she neared, her empathy picking up on what their shouted words and hateful accusations didn’t say. There was a deep resonance of pain coming from both of them, and sadness so strong it almost pushed the young Queen back a step. Loathe to feel either of them hurting, Mina quickly stepped forward and interceded.

“Mother! Alexandrite! Please, that’s enough.” Both turned sharply toward her at that, and Mina took note of the slightly guilty expressions that came across the both of them. The fact that they argued so incessantly upset Mina after all, and in her condition everyone seemed extra determined to not upset her in any way, not wanting it to have an adverse affect on the baby. In this one instance, Mina was not above abusing that fact to the fullest.

“There, you see?” Psyche suddenly growled somewhat brusquely. “Try to attempt to keep your barbarous ways under control, Earthling, lest you send my daughter into premature labor.” The dark-haired warrior scowled down at the former queen, face darkening.

“My _barbarous_ ways, is it? Mayhap if you kept your shrewish, harpy tongue still for more than ten seconds, your daughter wouldn’t have cause to be upset, now would she?”

“Harpy?!” Psyche near-screeched, chest heaving with the insult. _“Shrew?!”_

“Alexandrite!” Mina yelled then, in order to break up the impending shouting-match. Immediately the gruff man’s thunderous expression cleared, and he turned to her with a much more pleasant look.

“Yes, Mina?”

“Perhaps you would take a walk with me,” she suggested, somewhat desperate.

Alexandrite sighed, but began moving away from her mother readily enough. “Anything for you, dearling,” he teased, smiling faintly, though the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes. Mina didn’t need to see that indicator however, to know that his attempt at levity was a false one.

Though Alexandrite was very different from her husband, in some ways the older warrior was very much like Malachite. In this instance, he was exactly like her mate. Arguing like this with Psyche hurt him. Deeply. Though if not for her empathy, Mina would have never known that truth, as it was kept so completely from his face and demeanor that it was impossible to tell.

Behind them Psyche seemed to huff a little to herself before stalking off toward the palace, no doubt to fetch her attendants, robes swishing angrily in her wake.

Mina watched her go with a pained sigh, then turned to begin leading the older man in another direction. After a few moments Alexandrite broke the somewhat uneasy silence between them.

“Was there something specific you wanted of me, or were you just trying to separate the two children before we started pulling each others’ hair out?”

Mina blanched a little guiltily at the amusedly self-demeaning tone of his deep voice, but lifted her chin somewhat stubbornly. “There _was_ a reason I asked you to come with me,” she insisted. When his brow lifted in question, she sighed. “Something I wished to ask you, actually. Ah . . . about Malachite.” Mina fidgeted a little when his expression became more guarded.

“If there’s something you wish to know about my nephew, it’s probably best if you ask _him,_ dearling.” He gave her a slightly admonishing look. “Playing the middle has never appealed to me. And it wouldn’t hurt for you both to start communicating with each other a little more.”

“Well that’s exactly my point,” Mina insisted. “He _won’t._ I have tried to get him to open up to me.” Alexandrite winced a little, and the blond at his side nodded. “It was very much like talking to that stone planter over there. I got about as much of a reaction out of him as I would have the topiary.”

Alexandrite sighed somewhat heavily, running a hand back through his short-cropped hair. “Mal . . . isn’t the most vocal of men, dearling—,”

“Oh I’ve gleaned that much for myself,” she interrupted blandly. “And I know that that isn’t likely to change,” she continued, when the other man started to reply. Her tone turned softer, somewhat resigned. “I realize that Malachite is a man full grown and it is foolish to think or to hope that he might alter his ways this late in his life. All I’m asking of you is to help me understand.” Her blue eyes became pleading, then. “There has to be a reason why he’s become so guarded. No one shuts their emotions down so completely without a cause.” When Alexandrite still balked, Mina continued. “It has been . . . very hard,” she revealed, “not knowing what he feels. He speaks so little, I know almost nothing about him. Not knowing what he’s feeling just makes things that much more uncomfortable—especially for me, as an empath. Maybe . . . maybe if I understood _why_ he holds himself back so completely, it might not hurt so much,” she finished softly then, head hanging. Noting the sad change in her tone, Zaire gently rubbed his head against her leg with a comforting rumble, which caused her to smile faintly and reach down to scratch at his ears.

Apparently Alexandrite was just as moved by her despondency, however. He hesitated only a moment more before he started to speak.

“Many years ago, Malachite had a brother,” he suddenly revealed, causing Mina to turn to him in surprise. “Older. Pyrite was the epitome of what a Northern Warrior should be. Strong, dedicated, powerful, confident. He was the heir, and a rock that many in the family depended on. As a boy, Mal adored Pyrite, looked up to him in every way.” Mina winced at the heavy sadness and pain that was emanating from Alexandrite now, telling her that this tale would not have a pleasant ending. “Despite his good qualities,” the other man heaved, “Pyrite also had some very damning ones, and as he got older they just got worse. He was arrogant, prideful, and had the devil’s own temper. One night, discussion turned to war and the whispers of evil amassing in the hills. Pyrite demanded that his father turn the rule of the Wastes over to him in these troubled times; argued that he was the stronger, more capable warrior and more fit to rule. But my brother, Feldspar—sensing the darkness growing within him—refused.” Here Alexandrite swallowed somewhat thickly, staring off into the distance but likely not seeing anything of the Venusian gardens around him. “Pyrite flew into a rage,” he pronounced, tone somewhat hoarse. “Cut down his own father, in cold blood, right in front of the rest of his family. Guards were summoned, but Pyrite was the best of us, the strongest and most skilled warrior in our arsenal. They were no match for him. He slew them easily, and then disappeared into the night. A few days later, the youma struck,” he continued, tone going flat. “Leaderless and with half of our garrison dead, we were overwhelmed. Near to everyone in the castle was slaughtered. Malachite’s mother, Olivene. My wife, Chalcedony, and my little girl,” he choked out, “Angelite. She was only seven.”

Tears dripped sorrowfully down either side of her face, as Mina shared in Alexandrite’s pain and sadness, feeling them as if they were her own. Unable to help herself, the young queen reached out to him, her hand curling around his forearm and trying to offer what comfort she could. Though glassy-eyed, the emotion in his gray eyes refused to fall. Rather his broad jaw clenched a few times, and he took a deep bracing breath before calming again. Back in control once more. Though he did give her hand a gentle squeeze, as if in thanks, before he continued his sad tale.

“I managed to survive, there are times even I don’t rightly understand just how. I fell into a sort of berserker rage, after Chalce and Angel were killed,” he murmured. “There are large gaps of that night that I . . . simply cannot remember. However, I got myself out, and young Mal as well.” Alexandrite shook his head then. “He . . . wasn’t right . . . for a long time afterward. Not only had he witnessed his entire family being slain, but Pyrite—the older brother that he’d near-worshipped since swaddling—had been the sole cause of it. I managed to get us to Elysian, where the Lord King gave us sanctuary, but Malachite wouldn’t speak—at all—for many months afterward. And once he finally came around, nearly a year later, he’s been as he is now ever since. Always tempered, always in complete control of himself and everything around him.” Alexandrite sighed heavily. “I suppose he’s afraid that, if he lets himself slip . . . even just a small bit . . . .”

“That he will become no better than his brother,” Mina finished softly. Suddenly, a lot of her husband’s behavior began to make so much sense. Alexandrite nodded. Mina considered the sad story for several more steps, then, “whatever happened to Pyrite?” she questioned. “Was he ever found?”

Alexandrite nodded. “After the North was retaken, patrols discovered the remnants of a body wearing Pyrite’s armor half-buried in the snowdrifts. He must have been set upon by Youma while out on his own. Mal had him buried in the family crypt, with the rest of them.” Mina could tell from the tone of his voice and the emotions rolling off of him that that was not a decision he necessarily agreed with, but had long since accepted. Mina just nodded, however, somehow not expecting anything less of her mate. No matter what Pyrite had done in life, he was still his brother. Malachite would have wanted his remains properly cared for, not left out in the elements for the carrion to feed from.

They fell into silence again after that, Alexandrite slowly putting old memories and demons back to rest while Mina mulled them over for the first time. They continued to walk together through the gardens until sounds of a ruckus caught her ears. Brow furrowed, Mina led Alexandrite down another path, until they both arrived at one of the larger courtyards. There, it seemed a large portion of what warriors Venus boasted of were facing off with the impressively skilled and disciplined contingent of Northern Warriors that had elected to relocate here on Venus to bolster their defenses as well as remain under Malachite’s command.

In the center of it all, the man himself stood observing their sparring, his arms folded back behind him and clasped in the small of his back. Malachite was dressed in slightly more Venusian attire—a lightweight pair of cream-colored cotton pants and a matching sleeveless vest of sorts, the gold band of his office on prominent display around his bare bicep. He had also pulled his white-blonde hair back into a loose tail, probably in order to get some sort of relief from the muggy heat. Unnoticed for now, Mina hovered near the entrance—Alexandrite and Zaire remaining silent at either side of her—and watched her husband move through the ranks. Pointing out corrections and admonishments where needed, giving simple praise when warranted.

Mina sighed then, feeling a fierce pang of longing as she continued to stare at him from afar. Ever since he’d been back, Malachite hadn’t made any attempts at all to be intimate with her. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her. She tried to tell herself that it was probably because he was afraid that doing anything with her might in some way hurt their son—which wasn’t true, of course. Her pregnancy was progressing very normally and healthy, which meant there was no danger to her or the baby in enjoying that aspect of a Joining. Of which Mina still found herself craving somewhat desperately, even worse now that he was home and right underneath her nose every day. But not knowing what he was feeling was holding her back from acting on what was, to her, a perfectly normal and natural impulse. Mina just couldn’t be sure if he would react favorably to her aggressiveness. The memories of her wedding night—and his cold, cruel demeanor for the first part of it—was too fresh in her mind. The young Queen was too afraid of inspiring a repeat performance.

So, instead, she watched him from afar and pined like a child. Squirming restlessly in the pillows at night while she tried to sleep beside the huge hulk of absurdly attractive, masculine muscle and _not_ give into her powerful urges to touch him, and make him touch her in return.

Mina’s attention was suddenly diverted, however, by the sight of her cousin Eros out among the sparring. Which was somewhat surprising, given that she hadn’t known Eros was in any way interested in fighting. Indeed, the Northern Warrior he was facing off against trounced him easily. The blonde shot to his feet after being knocked down, blue eyes narrowed into a scowl. Mina tensed.

“This is pointless,” Eros growled. Everyone around him turned at the sound of his voice. His posture stiffened under his audience, and he tossed down the sword he’d been holding with a vengeful clatter. “We are not warriors,” he pronounced stubbornly. “This is just an exercise in humiliation. Proving to us that your Earthling comrades are superior. You mean to mock us.” A few of the Venusians near him grumbled slightly, apparently agreeing.

Sensing the impending disaster, Mina took a step forward intending to intercede, but Alexandrite suddenly reached out and caught her by the elbow, holding her back. When she turned to him, the older man just shook his head slightly. Mina turned back toward Eros, biting her lip as Malachite strode forward, fearing the worst. The taller King seemed as calm and unruffled as he had been, though, arms still clasped behind his back.

“It is true, your philosophies have taught you not to fight,” he called, loud enough that the rest of the congregation—which had come to a pause at the commotion—could hear him clearly. “And that is a truly noble thing, not something I would wish to change. However, there are times when your enemies will not be so noble.” His tone hardened, gray eyes solemn. “There are times when your enemies will care nothing of peace or diplomacy. They will want nothing less than the complete and total annihilation of your homes. Your families. Everything that you hold near and dear to your hearts. Imagine, for a moment, the Grand Palace of Venus brought to rubble. Imagine the screams of fear, of pain and confusion. Imagine the blood. Imagine the death. Now imagine you had the power to stop it.”

“Pretty words,” Eros sneered, “but you try to give these men false hope.” Malachite turned to face her cousin directly at that, pale eyebrow lifting.

“I don’t deal in chance, Lord Eros,” he replied coolly. “I deal in certainties.” His gaze turned to sweep across the others once more. “And if there is one infallible truth that I have learned from this war, it is that _one_ man defending his home can be the most powerful force in this universe.” Around him, several world-weary Earthling warriors nodded, holding the pained knowledge of experience in their eyes.

The Venusians who had sided with Eros were now staring at their King with a newfound respect. Sensing that he had lost favor, Mina’s cousin scowled heavily, face reddening before he turned on his heel and stalked off out of the courtyard. To his credit, Malachite didn’t gloat in victory. Rather he seemed to heave a sigh, shoulders rounding somewhat—in weariness?—before turning back to the others and calling out for them to resume. Every man in attendance eagerly jumped to do his bidding. Mina just shook her head a little, somewhat in awe. There was just something about Malachite—the way that he spoke, the way that he carried himself—that inspired a near-hero worship in everyone, without him ever having to lift a finger.

Though she didn’t notice it, beside her Alexandrite gave her wistful look a knowing smile before he finally stepped forward. More boisterous and vocal than his nephew, he yelled out his praise or his admonishment to the surrounding warriors in his booming voice, demanding to be heard. Malachite turned toward his uncle for a moment, nodding slightly when he neared. And then Mina tensed when his eyes lifted further and settled onto her. She froze, breath hitching a little, while those silvery eyes seemed to lock with her own and hold them. And then, without another word or even a twitch of his eyelashes, Malachite turned back to his warriors.

Mina felt her eyes narrow, her currently short temper flaring. _Men!_

In a huff and not really sure just why, Mina found herself stomping from the courtyard and heading back for the cooler indoors. An hour or so later, closer to dusk, she was lounging with Zaire in their bedroom when Malachite entered. Still suffering from her hurt feelings—however irrational—the Queen pretended to be _very_ engrossed in the book she was holding and didn’t look up at him at all. Of course, being the dimwitted male that he was, Malachite apparently took no notice of her sulking. Instead he methodically stripped and stepped into the bath as calm and placid as ever, going about what had become his nightly routine. Mina glared vengefully at the page she hadn’t turned in nearly a half hour, her irritation and frustration churning like a swollen river behind a dam.

Malachite had just stepped out of the sunken pool, dried off and absently tied a towel around his waist when Mina suddenly tensed from her perch and then let out a sharp yelp of pain. She dropped her book, both hands shooting down to cradle her stomach. Then she jerked when her hands were suddenly covered with two much larger ones. The queen straightened with a startled blink, stunned that in less than a heartbeat Malachite had crossed the distance that separated them, and was knelt down to her now. His face was as cool as ever, though his gray eyes seemed darker. Worried, mayhap?

“What is it?” he questioned immediately. “Are you—?”

“No,” she bit out, her graciousness strained from the pain in her middle. Not to mention the fact that her husband was thrusting his mostly naked, _wet_ self right underneath her nose. A woman only had so much control, after all. “I’m not going into labor,” Mina assured then. Malachite blinked.

“Well then, what—,”

“Your son seems determined to try and break one of my ribs,” she interrupted sourly, trying to rub the soreness from the area and ignore the fact that his huge hands were still cradling her. “My mother told me that talking to him would soothe him, but so far nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

Malachite considered that for a moment or two, and when Mina flinched and hissed in pain yet again, he frowned. Then he leaned forward, until his face neared her belly. “Hey,” he called in his deep, ever-commanding tone. “You’re hurting your mama. Knock it off.”

Mina’s eyebrow lifted, and she almost snorted in humor at his high-handed tone. Until the restless infant in her womb immediately went still. Then she gaped at him in utter disbelief. Malachite lifted away then, expression—as always—unreadable.

“Better?”

“What . . . how did you . . . _unbelievable!”_ she finally snapped. At her sudden anger, his brow knitted in confusion. Mina just crossed her arms, too frustrated to care. “Even your unborn son jumps when you snap your fingers.”

Malachite cleared his throat. “Ah . . . sorry?” he tried, though the confusion in his tone only upset her more.

“You should be,” she growled testily.

“Something has you upset,” he guessed then, tone bland. Mina just grumbled under her breath, glaring off to the side. Malachite sighed again. “Perhaps if you told me what was bothering you, I could try and fix it.” She continued to glare somewhat spitefully, until he suddenly took her chin in his hand and gently forced her to turn and look at him. Mina was a little surprised by the slightly softer look in his silvery eyes. Almost . . . gentle. “What troubles you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking her, he was demanding to know the answer. Mina found herself annoyed enough by that, combined with all the frustration that had been building inside of her from everything else, that she started blurting out her words before she really thought about what she was saying.

“What troubles me?” she snapped. _“You_ trouble me, Malachite. Everything you do, _troubles_ me! You never speak to me unless absolutely necessary. Stars, I’m going to give birth to your _child_ in two months and I don’t even know what your _favorite color_ is! Does it please you, that I am to have your son? Do you loathe me for it? I haven’t a clue! My people are an empathic race, and I am more sensitive than most, yet when I look at you all I feel is cold emptiness. You have yourself and your emotions so tightly bound and in control that I can’t feel anything from you. Ever. Have you any idea how frightening that is, for someone like me? How painful?” Malachite just stared down at her, ever unreadable, while Mina’s voice began trembling with emotion and her eyes welled with tears. “I Joined with you for the sake of a nation. Our union meant the salvation of millions. Yet those millions can’t lie down with me in the night, can they. They don’t hold me. They don’t comfort me. And neither do you.”

“. . . you want me to comfort you?” he questioned slowly after a slight pause, and the hesitation in his tone sent her anger to all new heights. Mina let out a frustrated half-scream.

“Yes, I want you to comfort me, dammit! I’m seven months’ pregnant! I want you to touch me, hug me, kiss me, _something!_ I want to know that you can actually _feel_ something! I’ve lain next to you for two months whole, wanting to touch— _needing_ to touch—and not _once_ have you even tried to so much as look at me in an overt fashion. Do you have any idea what kind of torture that’s been?” Malachite shook his head at that and—had she not been so upset—Mina might have detected the first hint of humor start to light his gray eyes. As it was, she was far too riled up at the moment to notice. “I’ve been hounded by dreams about you and our wedding night almost from the day you left to go to war, but you apparently could care less. Now that I’m as big around as a house because of _your_ son, I don’t appeal to you anymore.” Now Mina’s eyes became deadly slits of rage, pointing an accusatory finger at his bare chest. “But if I find out you’ve carried yourself into another woman’s bed, so help me I will tear you limb from limb with my _bare hands—,”_

Mina’s tirade was abruptly cut short by the pressure of his mouth on hers. The blonde let out a slight squeak of surprise, eyes widening, but one of his larger hands suddenly buried in her hair behind her head and then tightened into a fist, holding her still at his mercy whether she liked it or not.

But she did like it. A lot. And she’d be the worst sort of hypocrite if she tried to pretend otherwise.

As it was Mina let out a slightly moaning sigh of pleasure while Malachite deepened the kiss, her own hands lifting to brace against the broad line of his shoulders. In the back of her mind Mina had been very afraid that the passion he had for her all those months ago was just a trick of her pheromone. That, if left to his own devices, Malachite felt nothing stronger for her than mild like and acceptance. The hot and hungry way he was currently taking her mouth, however—just as voracious and almost desperate as before—slowly burned away that niggling doubt in her mind until nothing at all remained of it.

A moment later and Mina somehow found herself in his lap, straddling him, the hem of her robes shoved up somewhere near her hips and his towel having fallen away to the wayside. Malachite took all of her weight easily, leaning back slightly so that there was plenty of room for her swollen middle. She panted somewhat, breathless, eyes a little wide and glassy with confusion and the beginnings of desperate need. Though the look on his face was as smooth as ever, his gray eyes were bright and surprisingly fierce.

“I have had no other woman but you since our vows were given,” he pronounced suddenly, tone solemn, “nor have I had even a small desire to. I am very content that you carry my son. I have not had much in the way of family for many years. Only my Uncle, my Lord King and my fellow Generals. And yet, in one effortless miracle you stand to give back to me much of what I had lost and thought gone forever.” Mina remained silent, too stunned to speak or really react, while Malachite reached up and carefully tucked a hank of her long lemony hair behind her ear on one side. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “And my favorite color, little Queen, is blue. Like that of the Earthian sky. Deep and vast, I have seen very few colors to match it in my travels, and only one shade of blue that betters it.”

“And what is that?” she heard herself question, her tone gone soft and husky.

There wasn’t an ounce of flattery in his tone, only pure truth as he responded easily. “Your eyes.”

Mina licked at her suddenly dry lips, feeling warm and achy and terribly short of breath as his words sunk in, heart pounding somewhat. She tensed, letting out a somewhat grudging moan as his hands lifted from her hips, slowly sliding up the curve of her back and setting her whole body on fire.

“Now,” he murmured, and again there was the faintest glimmer of amusement dancing in his silvery gray eyes. “You can touch me ‘til your heart’s content, little Queen,” he growled low. “And you’ll hear no complaint from me.”

She needed no more prodding. Mina leaned back to him with another whimpering moan, somewhat desperate as her slender arms threw around his neck. Malachite returned her feverish kisses in equal measure, grip tight and almost frenzied.

In the bone-weary, sweaty aftermath Mina cuddled her great hulk of a husband while he carefully threaded his fingers through her long hair, and for the first time the silence between them was a soft and gentle thing rather than tense and uncertain. Mina found herself marveling, faintly swollen lips pulling into a tiny smile. The reason being that, for a very brief moment while they had joined, Malachite had relaxed his iron-clad grip on his control. For a moment—only a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless—his guard had dropped. And for the first time, the empathic Queen had felt him. Felt what he felt. What she found there soothed away any doubt or fear that she had been wrestling with previously.

It was very slight. Subtle. Perhaps borne from gratitude due to their son, or perhaps from something else. Malachite probably didn’t even realize it himself. But now Mina knew the truth, and was content. Because now she knew that her husband—in his own subtle and quiet way—loved her.


	24. Finding Her Worth

Lita grimaced as she made her way through the palace toward the great hall for the midday meal. Three weeks. Three weeks and counting since she had accepted—or demanded—any challenges. Three weeks of dressing in ‘appropriate’ gowns and conducting herself as ‘a Queen ought.’ Three weeks of utter, inconsolable _boredom._

Lita had tried very hard to make this work. She went about her days doing things that other ladies did, things she vaguely remembered her mother doing; sewing, directing servants, gossiping with other ladies of state—or trying to, at any rate. Half of the time their gossip usually centered around her and her odd behavior, so when Lita tried to join in it created a strain on the whole affair, understandably. Lita could sit and withstand their nervous glances and forced attempts at conversation only for so long before she would have to get up and find something else to occupy herself. Unfortunately everything else she tried to do met with about the same amount of success. She would have loved the chance to talk to her friends—the Queens of Earth, Venus, Mars and Mercury—sure that the other girls would be able to help sort through her confusion. Her King and husband had denied her request to travel to Lunara to see them, however. Informing her that any travel between the kingdoms was restricted until further notice due to heightened security after the Time Priestess’ dire predictions. Lita had managed a few short chrys-tech communications here or there, but her problems were just too confusing and complicated to be hashed out through hologram.

And so, with no other option left to her, Lita continued to suffer in silence. Her frustration, agitation and helplessness increased daily, hourly, until the young Queen feared she was just going to explode at any moment. And what was worse, no one else seemed to even notice her discomfort.

Or so she thought.

Lita sighed heavily as she dragged her feet toward the great hall, heart heavy, her pale rose colored gown swirling airily at her ankles. _Why am I so incapable of being a woman?_ she thought to herself sadly. _Why can’t I do any of the things mother used to do, with any semblance of skill? Worse, why do I seem to despise them all so heartily?_

The delicious aroma of lunch wafted to her nostrils just then, and her black mood lifted just a little. There _was_ one womanly activity that Lita rather enjoyed—and was pretty good at it, too, what’s more—and that was cooking. Unfortunately the kitchen staff had fits when she tried to invade their space and ‘lower herself to servants work.’ Bestelle, the head chef, had been so beside herself the last time that she’d managed to sneak in—baking an entire tray of Toste berry tarts before anyone was any wiser—that Lita had been reluctant to try again until the elderly woman had had a chance to recover. It would be just her luck that she’d cause the old servant to drop dead from fright, frustration or both.

Lita shuffled inside, her fists clenching somewhat at her sides as all eyes seemed to turn to her to watch her entrance. Her chin lifted stubbornly, green eyes almost brittle with determination. She was so focused on not showing any weakness to the hundred or so warriors and women watching her that she never noticed the two that watched her very closely and carefully. One was her father, Theseus, who’s face pulled into a worried frown before he turned to glare somewhat accusingly at the other, her husband. Though she didn’t notice it, Nephrite sighed somewhat heavily before waving her father down, murmuring something that must have appeased the giant, as his expression cleared a moment later.

Oblivious to the byplay, Lita stepped up to the high table and started to take her place, but all of a sudden Nephrite stood and she froze, unsure what he was about.

“Are you very hungry?” he questioned, his tone strangely intent.

Lita blinked, confused. They had seen very little of each other these past few weeks, and spoken even less. The new King was kept extremely busy learning the lay of his new land and trying to insure that all was kept safe within it. In fact, the only time they ever seemed to see each other was at meal times like this, though he usually kept to himself and she did the same.

“Um . . . wh-what?” she finally managed. Nephrite ignored the others’ equally confused, startled looks.

“Are you hungry,” he repeated, “or could you stand to miss the meal?”

“I-I . . . I suppose I could forgo—,”

Lita didn’t get out any more than that before Nephrite was rounding the table. Her eyes widened, too surprised to really do more than gape as the taller King took her by the hand and practically dragged her back out of the room. Even her long legs were forced to jog a little to keep up with his longer stride. She bit her lip a little as Nephrite pulled her out of the great hall completely, and down several other corridors away from the bulk of the others. _Great, I’ve managed to mess up something else,_ she thought to herself scathingly, somewhat annoyed at the hurt moisture trying to gather in her eyes. _Worse, I don’t even know what I did wrong this time._

Lita continued to trot after her husband, and just before she would have finally opened her mouth and demanded he tell her where in Stars’ name he thought he was dragging her off to, they exited out into one of their private flats. A wide wooden terrace set off from the palace, mostly protected from the steady rains by thick green and red boughs above them. Nephrite pulled her out into the middle of the flat, then finally stopped and turned back to her. Lita braced herself for the lecture that was sure to come.

Then she blinked in stunned disbelief when he suddenly reached up and began undoing the fastenings of his ceremonial jacket. Lita was too dazed to react, merely staring on in confusion as Nephrite yanked the material down off his arms and then tossed it negligently aside. He hadn’t shown any interest in her sexually at all since their ill-fated encounter just after his arrival three weeks ago, and now all of a sudden he wanted her? Right _now?_ What, did he just expect to strip her down and lay her out on the wet flat outside and have his way with her, just like that?

And shouldn’t that prospect be a lot more distasteful than it was sounding in her head right about now?

Something in her scalding face or expression must have tipped him off to her thoughts, because Nephrite suddenly grinned. That slow, lazy grin that made her knees feel like boneless jelly. “Don’t fret, I’ve not brought you out here to molest you, Lita,” he chuckled. Which of course only caused her already blushing face to get even redder.

“Well then why _did_ you drag me out here?” she demanded then, tone somewhat belligerent with her embarrassment and bottled frustrations. Nephrite reached down and began rolling up the sleeves of the soft white tunic he’d had on beneath his coat.

“You’re upset,” he pronounced, his tone perfectly neutral as if he were discussing the weather. “You need an outlet for all that frustration that you’ve been stewing on these past few weeks. Sparring is a great way to release it.”

“Spar?” she parroted in disbelief. “With you?” When he nodded, she scoffed, crossing her arms with a jerk. “You forbade me to spar, remember?” she pointed out somewhat scathingly, “as the terms of my challenge loss.” Nephrite shook his head.

“I forbade you to challenge anyone else but me. I realize you enjoy combat, Lita. I didn’t forbid you challenges to keep you from training or sparring, only to keep you from fighting giants who are three times your size. But if you want to spar, I’ll accommodate you. And right about now, you look like you could use the work out,” he finished with a strangely knowing look. One that made her blush all the harder, from the implication that he could apparently read her moods so well.

Lita was at a loss for words again, for several moments. A few weeks ago, she might have taken affront to his speech. She would’ve probably heard haughty condescension in his tone—whether it was really there or not—sure that he only meant to humble her or tease her in some way. Now, however, she was able to see the thoughtfulness behind his actions. Even though she didn’t really understand his reasoning behind it, a flush of warmth spread from her belly and beyond. As a result her tone was uncharacteristically shy as she mumbled,

“I’m not . . . really dressed for sparring.” She picked a little at the skirt of her gown to accent her point. At that Nephrite smirked a little, though he nodded.

“Well, you could go back to your rooms to change. Or . . . ,” His pale eyes suddenly glinted as he reached down and produced a small, though wickedly curved—and no doubt extremely sharp—dagger from his left boot. “You could take care of things more expediently.”

Her cheeks were probably scarlet red, but Lita found that she couldn’t deny the silent challenge in his stare. She took the dagger firmly in one hand and a fist-full of her skirts in the other. A strange thrill of satisfaction zipped through her as the knife shredded through the flimsy material, as if she were cutting away more than a dress. A few moments later Lita tossed the excess fabric aside and straightened again, the ragged skirts now barely falling to mid-thigh. She kicked off the matching slippers before handing the dagger back to her husband, chin lifted almost defiantly. Nephrite only grinned, setting the blade aside before toeing off his own boots and facing off with her. His eyebrow twitched, as if to say ‘ready?’

The first smile in three weeks spread across her face an instant before Lita leapt forward on the attack.

The battle was a fierce one. If it were a serious fight and he were pressed for a victory, no doubt Nephrite would have been able to defeat her. Yet, as far as she could tell at least, in this sparring match she was keeping him firmly on his toes. And with every blow, every block, every maneuver—all the tension, pain, anger and frustration poured out of her in waves. Lita wasn’t really sure how long they fought, but by the time she finally wound down both of them were sweaty and breathing hard. She slowed her attacks until they stopped completely, panting, and Nephrite drew up as well, gaze questioning. Lita just stared around herself, stunned at the numb exhaustion that filled her now. Very slowly she sank to her bare knees, ignoring the cold, wet wood against her flesh. Her auburn hair hung in front of her face in tangled tendrils, somewhat hiding her face as her head bowed. She felt a tremor race through her frame.

A moment later a warm hand curled around her shoulder through her hair, a solid wall of warmth kneeling on the wet planks beside her.

“I never intended for you to try and become something that you’re not,” Nephrite suddenly murmured, tone soft. She flinched a little at that, but he continued before she could castigate herself any more than she already had. “No matter the traditions of your people, you have the heart of a warrior, Lita. I’ve always known this, and respected it. I never wanted you to change that. And trying to do that would be like trying to tell the skies of Jupiter to stop raining; impossible.”

Lita slowly lifted up at that, and she could tell she surprised him with the tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Me being a Queen of any Kingdom is what’s impossible. I’m broken, Nephrite,” she whimpered the awful truth, when he immediately opened his mouth to protest. “Something in me is flawed. My father saw it even as I was just a little girl.” The former General’s expression darkened dangerously.

“What do you mean, he saw you were flawed?”

Lita took a great, shuddering breath before she began, telling him the story of her mother and younger brother. Admitting to her greatest shame, the awful words her father had spoken the day their bodies were recovered from the marsh. The tightly-reined anger slowly faded from his expression as she spoke, replaced instead with a surprising amount of sad sympathy.

“Lita,” he murmured, tone gruff with emotion. “Your father didn’t mean that.” Her face tightened with angered annoyance and he hastily continued. “Or, at least, he didn’t mean it as you heard it. You’re remembering it through the eyes of a child. Try and look back on that day as you are now,” he coaxed softly. “He was choked with overwhelming grief and confusion, and suddenly expected to become the sole parent of a little girl. It sounds to me as if he was unsure of himself, not of you. He was just scared, Lita,” he finished. “And no doubt what he said was never meant for your ears.”

Lita had to admit that last part as truth. She’d only heard her father say those words because she’d hidden away, eavesdropping on him while he spoke with his advisors. She was very still as she thought on everything Nephrite had told her, doing as he’d suggested—remembering that day as a woman, rather than a hurt child. And she was forced to admit that he might very well be right. Lita tensed a little when the hand he had on her shoulder suddenly shifted, taking a hold of her chin and forcing her to look up at him. His stare was steady and fierce as he carefully wiped away a tear-streak with his thumb.

“You are Lita, and you are the Queen of Jupiter. It _is_ possible to be both, little warrior. I promise you that.”

Lita stared up at him at that, awed and perhaps even a little ashamed. “How . . . how can you be so nice to me, after how awful I’ve been to you?” she finally managed. That caused him to chuckle a little ruefully.

“No doubt, I more than earned my fair share of that venom,” he assured. “I’m certainly not the easiest man to get along with. Arrogant to a fault, I believe Mal said once, to go along with being stubborn as hell and having a bit of a temper management issue.” His humor faded after that, replaced with an earnest look. He hesitated a moment, revealing that his next words didn’t come easily. “On Earth, I used to live in the Western Palace . . . and it was utterly destroyed early on in the war against the Negaverse. In a single night, I lost almost everything that meant anything to me. My home, my family, my friends . . . people I’d grown up with and known my whole life. All I had left was Endymion and the other Warrior Kings. When a man is faced with that kind of loss, it forces him to sit up and pay attention if he should ever come across something else as precious. Demands that he hold on to it with both hands.” Another wry smile pulled at his mouth. “Even if it’s kicking and screaming and fighting tooth and nail to do otherwise.”

Lita smiled a little at his stab of levity, though it faded again under the hot look in his pale eyes. And for the first time, the young Queen wasn’t afraid of the near-instant response her body had to that look. Instead she reveled in it, allowing the liquid heat to spread through her with a slow, wicked burn. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, her lips parting faintly as her body swayed closer in an instinctual, clear invitation. The dark-haired warrior’s gaze grew even hotter at that, if that were even possible, before his hand slipped around to cup the back of her neck and he began to lean down to answer that invitation.

Lita drew in a shuddering breath, but just before his lips contacted her own there was a gentle clearing of a throat somewhere behind them.

The two broke apart with a start, Lita blushing uncomfortably and Nephrite scowling with a low growl of frustration at his second, Wolframite. The red-head managed to look contrite and vastly amused all at once.

“Ah, sorry m’lord, but there are several mandates that need your approval before I can alter the scouting rotations for tonight.”

Nephrite let out a heavy sigh, clearly disappointed, and Lita did her best to try and keep from blushing wildly at the implications of it. They were married, she told herself furiously. They were allowed to kiss if they wanted to. The King got to his feet a moment later and after extending his hand and she took it, effortlessly tugged her up as well. He held her stare for a lingering moment before finally turning away and stepping off the flat, back into the palace. Wolframite gave her one last apologetic wave before turning on his heel and trotting after his lord.

Lita was left standing in the rain-soaked afternoon, hugging herself and wondering on her future.

 

* * *

That night, Nephrite came awake with a violent start. He lay alone in the massive bed of the royal suite—just as he had for the past month—though tonight the silk sheets were tangled around him from where he’d been tossing and turning restlessly. He was covered in sweat, even trembling slightly and panting for breath, slightly wild-eyed while his brain struggled to come fully awake and separate dream from reality. Even when he was fully cognizant however, the former General made no attempt to move. Instead he stared sightlessly out of the massive terrace opening in front of the bed at the raging storm beyond. As if mirroring the disjointed thoughts currently swirling around in his brain, the lightning flashed in brilliant streaks of color, followed by the thunderous rumble he’d almost become completely accustomed to over the weeks.

After a long moment he got out of bed and walked over to the arched opening, leaning one shoulder against it and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Nephrite continued to stare out into the storm, brooding on the darkness that had once again invaded his dreams.

Meanwhile in another room, Lita slowly came awake, somehow knowing that something was wrong. She blinked a few times to clear her vision in the darkness, staring out of a smaller window at the storm outside, wondering at the strange sense of restlessness that she felt. After an hour or so of musing alone out on the terrace, Lita had come back to her rooms exhausted from the work-out Nephrite had put her through. She’d bathed, dressed for bed and ended up falling asleep nearly before her head hit the pillow. And now, she was suddenly wide awake and not entirely sure why.

Her brow furrowed in concentration, watching the flashes of lightening for a moment before she came to a sudden decision. Something was wrong with Nephrite. Lita wasn’t sure how she knew this so surely, she just did. As if something primal inside of her recognized the violence of the storm, understood what it was trying to tell her. Almost without thought she sat up and then swung out of bed, hurrying over to the door that joined their rooms on bare, silent feet. For the moment uncaring of that, or the fact that her auburn hair hung down her back in loose, curling tendrils or that she was only dressed in a pale green swath of silk that she used to sleep in.

Lita tested the door, somehow not surprised when it opened easily, pushing it inward on silent hinges. Her gaze skittered across the huge, empty bed before swinging around and finding him standing on the other side of the room. His bare back was facing her, as he stood facing into the storm. Nephrite’s tall, muscled frame was illuminated every now and then in harsh relief by the brilliant flashes of lightening before him, revealing the fact that his face was drawn into a dark frown. She knew, at that look on his face, that her instincts were right. Something was very wrong.

Nephrite remained rigid and motionless, even after she approached, making no attempt to mask her presence. His muscles were stiff, his jaw clenched tight with some unknown emotion, pale blue eyes like glass. Lita hesitated for a moment at his side before she made a desperate grab for her courage, reaching up somewhat hesitantly and then running the fingers of one hand through his long fall of hair. Gently tracing his bare spine. A caress meant to soothe the terrible tension barely leashed in his taut frame, as her face tilted back in order to try and see his own.

“Nephrite?” she called, tone soft, careful. Sensing without knowing how that his control was tenuous. Her fingers caressed him again. “What’s wrong?”

His pale eyes continued to rove restlessly on the stormy horizon for several moments before he finally began to speak. In a tone of voice that was thick and gravelly. “I have always had . . . premonitions . . . of things to come,” he began somewhat haltingly. “For as long as I could remember. The night before my smallest brother Graphite was born, I felt it. I knew weeks in advance when we would have a dry season, or a bountiful one. And then one night, when I was twelve years old, I woke from my bed screaming like a child, though I couldn’t remember exactly why. At least not until after it was too late to stop it. Two days later the Western Palace was burned to the ground and my entire family was slaughtered.” Lita continued to stare up at him, her belly growing cold at the ravaged expression on his face. He hesitated, then, “something evil is on the horizon, little warrior,” he whispered roughly then. “I can feel it there . . . waiting for me. Hiding like a damned viper, slithering in the brush ready to steal away every last shred of peace and contentment I’ve managed to carve out for myself in this life. _Again._ ” He let out a ravaged sigh, reaching up to cover his face with a slightly shaking hand. “It’s happening just as before. This damned curse of mine has given me just enough of a glimpse of what’s to come to torment me. Everything that I cherish is going to burn, Lita. All that I love will be torn from me.” He pulled his hand away, turning to stare at her at last, blue eyes awash with horror and pain. And fear. _“You_ will be torn from me,” he finished finally, voice barely able to be heard, eerie with its ring of utter certainty. “And there’s not a damn thing that I can do to stop it.”

Lita could only stare at him for a moment, too shocked and frightened by his eerie prediction to really react. And touched, more than she would have ever thought possible, that she was apparently so important to him. If she had doubted his declaration earlier today, it was impossible now.

After that moment of hesitation, however, she firmed her chin stubbornly. “You might not be able to stop it,” she pronounced haughtily, tone firm with her own convictions, “but I damn well will. Nothing and nobody’s taking me anywhere unless I want to go.” For a heartbeat or two the darkness left his eyes, replaced by a lighter, amused look. It faded again, though, as his demons crept back in and continued to haunt him. Lita lifted a hand to carefully frame his jaw, then. He had helped her when she was at her lowest. She could do no other than the same for him.

“I know you fear to lose everything again, Nephrite, but you don’t have to bear that fear and doubt alone. You are Jovian now. You said so yourself, ours are a powerful people. And we will stand with you no matter what lies on the horizon. Let us shoulder some of your burden. Let me help you. I’m strong,” she murmured solemnly. “I won’t allow anything to be taken from you, Neph. No one will take me from you.” She swallowed somewhat thickly before forging ahead determinedly. “You don’t ever have to be alone, again. I swear it.”

Lita continued to stare up into his somewhat startled eyes for a moment longer, her own steady gaze silently backing up her softly spoken words. A moment later the taller warrior had her crushed to him, his hands and mouth everywhere at once, almost desperate. Lita surrendered to him easily, her arm curling around his neck and returning his near-violent kisses with a moaning passion of her own.

“Lita,” he groaned almost painfully against her neck, and the Jovian Queen held him tighter as she felt another tremor chase its way through his powerful frame. The memories of his past and the horrors of his perceived future continued to ravage him, even now. “I need you,” he somehow managed, tone husky and hoarse. And Lita understood what he meant. He needed a release. He needed to lose himself in something other than visions of death and pain and loss. Nephrite was one of the most skilled and powerful warriors she had ever known, King of the largest planet in the solar system. And in that moment, he needed _her_ more than he needed his next breath of air.

The power she felt from such knowledge was utterly humbling. And it was here, now, in Nephrite’s arms, that Lita truly began to understand her place in this life. It was in loving—and being loved—by him.

Silently Lita nodded her head, continuing to stroke his hair, his shoulders, his chest, her touch and her very presence soothing away the raw pain in him and stirring something else instead. An instant later the Jovian Queen found herself swept up completely into his arms, and Nephrite carried her back to bed.


	25. Thawing Passions

Ami wrung her hands as she made her way toward the engineering sector of Prime-1—where her husband was currently overseeing the technicians and inspecting the week’s readings and outputs. It had been several weeks since her revelation, and in that time the young Queen had struggled to come to terms with her own feelings as well as reconcile herself to the monumental task of trying to reveal them to Zoisite. A prospect made all the more frightening due to his increasingly distant demeanor. A very large part of her was terrified that he didn’t feel anything for her other than mild friendship. How would she ever survive the embarrassment and mortification if she bared her soul to him and he rejected her? It took a while for Ami to work herself up to being ready for this horrible possibility. And then it took longer still for her to prepare everything to her satisfaction, days of quietly and unobtrusively rearranging their schedules in secret so that the both of them were completely free for several hours this afternoon.

Hours that she hoped to fill with something other than their never-ending duties, for once.

Ami moved through the corridors, expression cool and calm—somehow hiding the nervous tension that was eating her up inwardly—nodding to the technicians and workers who stopped to bow to her as she made her way to where she knew she’d find Zoisite. A moment later she stepped into the slightly cavernous chamber, blinking somewhat to let her eyes adjust to the darker room. She glanced this way and that, searching through the softly blinking terminals and technicians until she spotted what she’d come looking for.

Her tall husband stood to the side of a technician busily tapping out readings and relaying them. Zoisite wore a pristine white suit—no doubt one of the unique fur-lined outfits that had been fashioned especially for him, to help him cope with the chill of her planet—adorned with intricate silver and pale blue embellishments. His red-gold hair was pulled back neatly into a tight tail as was his habit, the thick curls falling somewhere near his waist behind him. Those intense emerald green eyes of his were fixed on the terminal, his sharp mind no doubt absorbing everything that he saw and heard like a sponge.

“As you can see,” the technician was saying, tone subdued as he pointed out the latest readings. “The output for the atmospheric generators has dropped over the past month and a half. We’re not exactly sure how or why. We’ve been working on a solution, but so far none of them have proven successful.”

Zoisite nodded absently, staring hard at the terminal. Ami could almost see the gears of his mind turning. “What if we increased ion flow out of gate seven?” The technician blinked at him in surprise. Zoisite smiled faintly, motioning to the terminal. “May I?”

The technician stepped back immediately with a bow of deference. “Certainly, sire.”

Zoisite stepped up to the computer and took command of the controls as if he’d been born to them, slender fingers flying across the keys. He tapped out a few commands, adjusting several readings. “See here, if we increase ion flow from gate seven, and reduce the output here . . . there.” Zoisite stopped typing and pointed to the new readings with faint grin of triumph. “Productivity should raise by a solid five percent.”

The technician stared at him with raised brows, expression clearly impressed. “I do believe that will work. Thank you, sire. That was a brilliant strategy.”

Zoisite just nodded, accepting the praise with a small, nonchalant shrug.

Ami smiled a little to herself, then took a deep breath—mustering her courage—before she softly cleared her throat. Both men turned in her direction. The technician immediately bowed in deference to her, though the young Queen was much more interested in her husband’s reaction. Which unfortunately was a subtle tightening of his jaw and a stiffening of his posture.

“Yes, Ami?” he called, tone cool. Not unfriendly, exactly. But definitely not welcoming either. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, n-not . . . not exactly,” she stumbled. Ami could feel her cheeks heating up, and silently cursed her pale complexion. “I noticed that our schedules were free for the next few hours,” she announced, praying her tone sounded appropriately nonchalant and not as guilty and nervous as she really felt. “I thought you might like to take this opportunity to have a small tour around Prime-1.”

Ami felt her confidence shrivel at the shuttered stare he continued to give her, no hint of warmth or softness in those powerful green eyes of his.

“I was actually using this free time to familiarize myself with the Chrys-Tech atmospheric generators,” he pronounced guardedly.

The technician beside him smiled, missing the discomfort between his King and Queen. “He’s become more than familiar with them, m’lady,” the man praised cheerily. “Why, he’s managed to come in here and show _me_ a thing or two, and I’ve been working at this station for nearly ten years now! I doubt there’s anything else I’ll be able to teach you, sire.”

Ami thought she might have seen his fists tighten for an instant—perhaps annoyed that his flimsy excuse had just been taken away—before he turned another one of those tight smiles toward her.

“Well then, it seems my afternoon has suddenly become empty.” He seemed to sigh, then began in her direction. “Please lead on, then.”

Ami swallowed with some difficulty, struggling to marshal her courage and determination for a moment, her shoulders straightening. “Right this way, then.”

Ami led him from the engineering sector, and began on the route she had planned ahead of time. One that took them through the nicer, scenic areas of Prime-1, where she quietly pointed out all the items of interest. Struggling to find some happy medium between a friendly demeanor and the more unfamiliar attempt at something alluring. Apparently whatever mixture she was managing wasn’t doing the job, as Zoisite’s cool and remote demeanor never changed throughout the tour. He listened politely, attentive, but his eyes remained cold and detached.

A half-hour or so later they reached the end of the tour she had planned and, by no coincidence, it had left them on the outskirts of the city, in the quieter, more private grottos that held their famed waterfalls and hot springs. It was at this point that she was supposed to suggest they take a closer look, but Zoisite’s unwelcoming attitude had nearly killed what little confidence she’d managed to scrounge.

“Is this it, then?” he questioned, almost bored. She bit her lip, her natural shyness nearly suffocating her.

“Um . . . yes. That . . . this is the end of the . . . of the tour.” He nodded.

“Well then. Thank you for taking the time to show me around,” he murmured, perfectly gracious . . . and perfectly false. “I enjoyed it. Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m sure there are some reports that need my attention back in the office.”

Ami could only nod, watching with wounded eyes as he turned and then started walking away. The young Queen was stunned to feel the slight sting of moisture in her eyes, and time seemed to slow to an inching crawl, her gaze glued to Zoisite’s prowling gait as he left her standing alone on the edge of the grotto. Something inside of her—an intuition perhaps—somehow _knew_ that if she allowed him to walk away today, there would be no recovery for the rift that would form between them. Was she willing to let that happen? Could her heart take that kind of pain? Did she have the courage to fight for something better?

“Zoisite, wait!”

Ami almost didn’t even register that she’d called out to him, the reaction had been almost instinctual. Her tall husband froze, then glanced back over his shoulder. Those green eyes were calculating, now . . . curious. Ami firmed her chin.

“Please, before you go . . . there’s one more thing I’d like to show you.”

Zoisite seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before he sighed in reticence, turning back around and coming back. Ami turned without a word, leading him through the slight wall of vegetation. A moment later they came into a small clearing. Ami stood off to the side, silent, her hands clasped before her while Zoisite stood at her side and slowly took in the view.

In this little hideaway, the iridescent turquoise moss that made up Mercury’s ground was a thick, soft, faintly glowing blanket beneath their feet that gave-way to the pale gray stone-work. These surrounded one of the larger hot springs, fed by three separate waterfalls that tumbled down from nearly thirty feet above them. As Ami had planned carefully for this moment, a large blanket had been spread near the edge with their lunch already laid out, ready and waiting for them. A quick glance in her husband’s direction revealed him staring at the landscape with a faintly stunned look on his face. Stunned from what, however, she couldn’t exactly tell. Ami sighed.

“You don’t have to stay,” she murmured softly then. “I just . . . I just wanted you to see.”

After another moment he finally turned to look at her. “You set all of this up?” he questioned, obviously still shocked. She merely nodded, feeling her nervous blush getting darker by the minute. He didn’t seem angry or upset, just . . . confused. “Why?”

Struggling with her embarrassment, she merely lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “When you suggested we take a picnic a few weeks ago . . . I liked the idea.” Her face was burning now, and Ami had to stare at his feet, unable to meet that emerald stare anymore. “I wanted to go with you that day,” she revealed, voice whisper-soft. “Only . . . I was so nervous, I didn’t know how to say so.”

He was silent for so long that Ami couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, and forced herself to look back up at him. It was to find Zoisite considering her silently, strangely guarded. As if waiting for her to give him some sort of sign. Ami took a few bracing breaths, then,

“Would you . . . would you like to stay?” she made herself ask, voice almost squeaky with nervousness. “With me? F-for lunch?”

A heartbeat or two passed in silence, and Ami feared she had made a grave error. And then, very slowly, a warm and strangely thrilling smile formed across her husband’s handsome face.

“I’d love to.”

She was so nervous, it actually took her a moment to realize he’d agreed. Her relief caused a faintly breathless laugh, then she bit her lip, blushing even harder when his smile just widened. “Good,” was all she managed, before motioning toward the blanket. “Shall we?”

A moment later both of the monarchs were seated across from one another on the blanket, partaking in a delicious luncheon. And Zoisite’s demeanor had done a complete reversal—warm and friendly where he’d been painfully polite and remote before. It wasn’t long at all before his natural charisma had the shy Queen relaxed considerably, until the two of them were laughing and talking easily like old friends. Ami was struck yet again with Zoisite’s sharp, analytical intelligence. If his display that morning in the engineering sector wasn’t enough proof, the conversations they had over lunch would have been more than enough to prove it. She was able to discuss an endless array of topics—scientific, political, theoretical—and in every one of them Zoisite was able to give as well as she did. It was fun, engaging . . . and strangely thrilling as well.

Their conversation came to a slight pause while they finished off the last of the pale pink Venusian wine that she’d packed, which had also no doubt played a small part in her relaxation. Zoisite let his gaze wander to the spring nearby, taking in the thundering waterfalls beyond. His eyebrow quirked.

“Is that steam?” he questioned of the mists that rose above the pale blue water. Ami nodded, smiling.

“Yes. The streams are fed from underground reservoirs, which are heated by the planet’s core.”

His eyebrow lifted higher. “So the water’s warm, then?” She nodded again over the rim of her glass.

“Quite.” And then she blinked in faint uncertainty when an entirely devious, mischievous grin suddenly spread across his face.

“Well then. Would you care to go for a swim?”

Her eyes widened, stunned by the very suggestion, blinking rapidly. “Oh, but . . . w-we can’t!” she protested in a sputter, voice weak from shyness. “I-I mean . . . we aren’t dressed for swimming!” Zoisite just laughed at her protests, getting to his feet. Her eyes widened further when he began undoing the fastenings of his coat. “We’re outside!” she felt obligated to remind him, even as he pulled the garment down from his shoulders and let it fall to the moss below with a rustle. “The grotto seems secluded but anyone could just walk up to us at any moment.”

Apparently her dire warnings fell on deaf ears, as Zoisite deftly unbuttoned the fine white tunic he wore beneath his coat, yanking it up out of the waistband of his trousers and then tossing that aside as well. A moment later and his boots had been neatly toed off and the tie in his hair undone. And then he was diving into the hot spring, head first. Ami just gaped from where she sat, utterly speechless. A condition that didn’t lessen when he suddenly surfaced a second later with a stunned bark of laughter.

“I’ll be damned! It _is_ warm. Not too hot, not at all cold. Just perfect.”

 _Perfect, indeed,_ was her breathless, silent agreement, but then the Mercurian Queen wasn’t paying any attention to the water.

Her blue eyes were glued instead to the arousing sight her very handsome husband made standing shirtless, soaking wet and waist-deep in water. Though not nearly as bulging and muscular as some she had seen, Zoisite was still toned to perfection, lean and chiseled with agile power. His long hair—now wet—plastered to his caramel-bronze skin in curling tendrils, which he negligently removed with a backward swipe of his hand. Causing all sorts of fascinating ripples, bunching and tightening of the muscles across his arms and chest. To which her attention was rather shamelessly riveted.

Zoisite smiled at her again, eyes dancing with mirth and naughty fun. “Come on, Ami. Jump in with me. Everyone needs to do something a little wild and foolish once in their lives.” His gaze grew strangely heated then, and his voice deepened to a rough growl as he finished with, “I dare you, Ice Princess.”

Ami was certain that some of his wildness had infected her. Or perhaps she’d had a little too much of the heady pink wine, the subtle alcohol giving the normally shy girl a dash of courage she couldn’t hope to achieve on her own. Whatever it was, Ami found herself slowly getting to her feet despite the desperate voice in the back of her mind trying to remind her of all the reasons why this would be a terrible idea.

She removed her slippers first, and then something in his hot green stare made her bold as her fingers lifted and began undoing the delicate fasteners holding her top in place. The young Queen’s face reddened only a little as she slowly stripped out of her blouse and skirt right in front of him, leaving her in nothing but a sheer white camisole and slip. And then Ami dove in as well, her movements graceful and assured—revealing that this was not the first time she had indulged in a swim.

Zoisite had gone very still throughout her impromptu display, and watched her swim closer with a strangely intent—almost hungry—expression. One that Ami remedied rather handily with a sudden splash of water to his face. Zoisite let out a stunned bark of laughter before responding in kind, causing Ami to shriek in protest before dissolving into gales of laughter herself. It wasn’t long before the two of them were engaged into a full-on water war like a couple of naughty children. And it was far more fun than Ami could remember having in a long, long time.

She wasn’t entirely sure how it happened. One moment they were playing foolishly, and it seemed in the very next she had been scooped up into his arms and they were kissing passionately. Ami clung to Zoisite’s powerful shoulders almost desperately, moaning aloud with it as well. Nearly starved for the affection and attention her heart and body had been craving from him for so long and terrified that something would happen to take it away again. That she would wake up somehow and this would be just another lonely dream. Yet that moment never came. Their embrace only became more fervid and enflamed. Enough that Ami was only able to give a barely passing thought to propriety and the possibility of being caught, before the notion was chased right out of her head again when Zoisite bent slightly, his powerful hands slipping under the hem of her camisole beneath the water and cupping her rear—squeezing dangerously before lifting her up and fitting them together perfectly. Ami gasped, then whimpered hungrily at the pleasure that lit up her body from the pressure and friction. Her legs curled obediently around his hips, arms locking around his neck and meeting him thrust for grind as they continued to kiss ravenously.

They very well might have made love right there in the pool, if a bland voice hadn’t suddenly called out, “well there ya go, cousin. That’s a helluva nice way to keep warm.”

Immediately her passion was doused. Ami jerked with a gasp of alarm, eyes flying wide, but before she had a chance to grow truly mortified she found herself torn away from Zoisite’s chest and tucked protectively behind his back instead as he whirled toward their intruder. Which turned out to be none other than Zoisite’s snidely grinning cousin, Jorowyn.

“What in the hell are you doing here, Jory?” he demanded in a growl, partly roughened from anger and partly roughened from something else entirely. Jorowyn chuckled fearlessly from where he was lounging on the blanket they’d eaten their lunch on a moment ago. He reached over into the basket and plucked out a left-over Mossberry and popped it into his mouth.

“I’ve been waiting for you two to return to the palace for nearly an hour now,” he announced around his mouthful of fruit. “According to your schedule, you were due to arrive back almost twenty minutes ago. Rather than allow a full-blown planet-wide search party, I volunteered to go look for you myself. After all,” he finished with a smarmy grin, “with a universe full of Youma to consider, one can never be too cautious.”

“Well as you can see, we’re both perfectly fine,” Zoisite ground out. Jorowyn chuckled again, eyebrow quirking.

“Yes I _can_ see that,” he agreed pleasantly, snatching up another Mossberry.

“I’ll meet you in my office shortly,” the Mercurian King nearly snarled through his teeth. Unconcerned, Jorowyn just chuckled and gave him a small salute before disappearing with a blink, using the personal transporter device he’d created.

Zoisite turned back to Ami, but before he could say anything she beat him to it.

“Oh Stars, I’m so sorry,” she released in a furious rush, her face ghost white with shock, nearly shaking with mortification. “I never should have allowed this to happen. It was terribly foolish and irresponsible, and I am so sorry if I’ve shamed you—,”

Zoisite stopped her pained rambling with another scorching kiss. She stiffened up, giving a small whimper of protest, but Zoisite just continued to kiss her until she gave in. Softening in his arms once again with a sighing moan of surrender. He lifted away a moment later, and gave her adorably dazed eyes a stern look.

“Don’t you ever apologize to me for something like this,” he pronounced firmly. “There’s nothing wrong with what we’ve done, Ami. And I’ve had more fun with you this afternoon than I think I’ve had since my parents died six years ago.” That confession obviously stunned her, causing her to blink, though it was the truth and he didn’t regret admitting it. When Ami had approached him earlier today with the suggestion of giving him a tour of Prime-1, he’d been convinced she was merely doing so out of pity. He’d been determined not to give into it, stubbornly refusing to allow himself to be coddled or babied. He’d rather have his wife’s cool inattention than her sympathy. But then she’d revealed this grotto, her little planned picnic—revealed her shy desire to be with him—and Zoisite had been given a reason to hope. Hope that the tender feelings he’d developed for his beautiful, adorably shy wife nearly from the moment he’d met her might not be unrequited after all.

He stared down at her for a moment longer, and then—his voice growing faintly hoarse with emotion—“And as to what was interrupted by my cousin’s rather untimely intervention . . . I’ve missed you since our wedding.”

Zoisite held his breath, waiting for her response. She blinked, staring up at him with those huge blue eyes of hers, her pale ivory cheeks slowly bleeding into a soft and rosy pink before she managed to whisper, “I’ve missed you, too.”

Relief, elation, excitement. Too many emotions to process properly thundered through him at that. Zoisite was unable to help himself, bending back down and kissing her again, hot and deep. She clung to him, and seemed even more reluctant than he was when he forced himself to pull away a long moment later. They stood together for a little while longer as they fought to catch their breath and a shred of composure, holding on to each other while the passionate firestorm within cooled back down to a slow burn. After another moment, Zoisite lifted away completely and sighed.

“I suppose we should get out, before he sends out that search party.”

Despite her instant blush of discomfort, Ami managed a faint smile and a chuckle at the thought. She started to move away, but Zoisite hesitated.

“Would you like me to join you for your visitations later, after I’ve managed to deal with my annoying relative that is?”

Her smile was radiant in response. “I would love that, yes.”

The both of them got out of the pool at last, at that. Immediately Zoisite began shivering hard in the chilly air. Despite being covered in nothing but sheer, wet underthings Ami didn’t show the faintest reaction to the cold. It was almost as if she were entirely immune to the temperature. He mentioned as much as they dried off to the best of their ability and dressed, and Ami just laughed at the boyish petulance in his tone.

The two of them hurried back to the palace then, both of them ignoring the curious stares they drew from their wet and bedraggled appearance. After changing into dry clothes, Ami left to go begin her afternoon visits with their people and Zoisite turned toward his office, ready to give his damnable cousin a piece of his mind. He found Jorowyn as he thought he might, lounging negligently in Zoisite’s own chair, feet propped up on the desk and flask in hand.

“I ought to scalp you,” the smaller of them growled, to which Jorowyn laughed heartily.

“Ah, don’t fret, cousin,” the Phaetonian teased. “Anticipation only makes the moment of fulfillment sweeter.” Zoisite sneered.

“Is that what you tell your mystery woman when you’re too drunk to perform?” he snapped. Unfortunately that only made Jorowyn laugh harder, and he sighed with resignation, realizing that—for whatever reason—Jorowyn was in far too good of a mood to rile.

Zoisite finally just sat down on the wrong side of his desk and shifted the terminal so that he could use it from this side, getting started on processing the order that Jorowyn was here to collect. The sooner he got him out of here the sooner he could rejoin his wife—who was far more pleasant company at the moment. Nearly an hour later he saw Jorowyn out of his office with a slight, impatient shove—winning another cackle from the annoyingly chipper bastard—before he turned back to make sure all of his other projects were caught up. Satisfied that things would run smoothly for the next hour or so without his direct intervention, Zoisite set out to find Ami again.

Twenty or so minutes later he found her, moving through the housing levels with a handful of guards moving along with her at a discreet distance. Oblivious to their presence, she stopped to speak with almost everyone, soothing them with her innate calm and gentleness. She glanced in his direction when he approached and smiled, deep blue eyes sparkling. He just grinned back before moving to her side when she motioned for him to do so. Almost seamlessly she included him into the current conversation, seemingly completely at ease.

Ami continued with her work, though now she would turn to him every so often with one of those pretty, secretive smiles. Reaching out to brush her fingers down his arm or hold his hand before turning to the next person. Zoisite just basked in the attention, and gave his own in return. It was about then that he noticed a cluster of children near-by watching them pass, giggling amongst themselves and pointing in their direction. And soon after, a pair of older women sighed wistfully after them, their eyes shining with memories.

_The kind of love that made old women sigh, and children giggle . . . ._

The moment that realization hit him, Zoisite froze, eyes wide. Could it really be . . . .

“Zoisite?” He turned to see Ami staring up at him, brow wrinkled with concern. Eyes glistening with it.

_She loved him._

Suddenly he felt as if he was going to burst with emotion. Somehow he managed a smile, however, knowing that this exact moment wasn’t the time to give into such feelings. Not out in the open. She was far too much of a shy, private person for that.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, giving her hand a squeeze when she continued to look unconvinced. Finally she seemed to shrug it off, and turned to the next person.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass by in a blur. Zoisite could barely recall what he’d said and done, only that he’d been fidgeting with impatience, eager for the time when they would finally be allowed to retire for the night. And at last that moment came.

Yet, despite everything that they’d said and done, Zoisite could only stand there in bemused shock as Ami whispered a soft, shy goodnight before slipping away into her room.

The former General glared at the closed door for several moments, debating and arguing with himself, before he couldn’t stand it any longer and strode forward angrily. Just as he’d suspected all these weeks, the blasted thing slid open for him easily. This revealed Ami standing to the side of her bed now dressed in a sheer, ankle-length pale blue gown, pulling the covers back and obviously about to get into bed. She had froze at his abrupt entry with a gasp however, and now stared at him with widened eyes with somewhat the look of a cornered doe.

Determined, Zoisite stalked up to her until they were nearly touching.

“Did you mean what you said?” he demanded then, in a low growl.

“About what?” she questioned, voice faint.

“At the pool earlier. Did you mean what you said when you told me you’d missed me?”

It took her a moment to work through her shock, but eventually Ami managed a somewhat nervous nod.

“Do you enjoy sleeping alone?” Her brow wrinkled with confusion, but before she could ask, he clarified. “Do you not want to sleep with me?”

Her pale face slowly bled into a bright scarlet, but to her credit she managed to keep his gaze. He saw her throat work as she swallowed once, twice, then, “No,” she near whispered. “I don’t like sleeping alone.”

A second later he had her scooped up into his arms, ignoring her startled squeak. Instead the deceptively powerful warrior turned on his heel and began back out of her room and in the direction of his own. “I’m sick and tired of sleeping alone,” he pronounced gruffly. “And if you don’t prefer to do so, then there’s no good reason to continue it.”

She stayed tensed up with uncertainty for maybe a heartbeat longer before she suddenly went soft and pliant in his arms. Her slender arms slowly curled around his neck, her head tucking under his chin and he thought he heard a contented sigh slip past her lips before they entered the master bedroom, and the door slid shut behind them.


	26. Heat of Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not to be spoilery, but Raye and Jade continue to be my little controversial couple. I swear they're one of my favorite pairings, I'm not picking on them on purpose. But this chapter deals with some uncomfortable subjects, just a fair warning.

Raye lounged in the large commons area of the palace, half-curled into a deeply cushioned divan, her arms crossed over the back and her chin propped on them as she stared listlessly at nothing in particular. The young Queen was dressed in typical garb for a woman of her standing—a filmy, intricate, ruby red set of silk robes, feet bare, the delicate gold chains and discs wound around her brow denoting her status as the Queen of her planet. A small gaggle of servant girls tittered this way and that around her; some with huge feathered fans meant to help chase away the stifling desert heat, some holding trays of assorted foods and refreshments, others still simply standing at attention waiting until any random desire happened to flit through her mind. Unfortunately the only desire she could think of at the moment was quite unobtainable. Well, certainly impossible for the servants to attend to.

As if to taunt her, Raye tensed as she suddenly heard the deep, roiling sound of his laughter—shivering across her skin like heated velvet. The formerly supine girl jerked straight, her head turning in the direction of the sound and causing her long fall of ink-black hair to pool the cushions in front of her with a faint rustle. Her breath caught, watching and waiting, having gone very still. She didn’t have to wait long.

Jadeite loped into the commons, head currently downcast—so that he didn’t see her sitting there—and still laughing at whatever it was that had originally amused him. The powerful monarch was dressed in the garb of her people; a billowing white tunic made of the softest silk half tamed by a tighter-fitting, scarlet red vest, over a pair of loose black lawn trousers tucked into calf-high black boots. The ceremonial dagger of his station was hanging from one hip, his short-cropped hair gleaming like spun gold in the bright sunlight that shined in from the terrace windows beyond.

Raye almost called out to him. It would be so easy. All she had to do was reach out with her mind, just the barest brush against his. That’s all it would take to alert him to her presence, let him know of her interest. Her longing. And yet, somehow, to do so seemed impossible at the very same time. How could she bridge that gap? How could she mend that rift? How did Raye tell a man that she’d accused of raping her not six months ago that she’d suddenly had a drastic change of heart?

It had been a week since her reoccurring nightmare. A week since he’d left her alone in her cold and lonely room. A week that she’d been moping and brooding about the palace, fighting with herself, her fears and her own stubborn pride. In that time Jadeite had done an even more impressive job of avoiding her. Not only did he still refuse to react to anything she said or did, but now he went out of his way to try not to be anywhere near her at all unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

Raye kept perfectly silent now, terrified that he would retreat again when he discovered she was here. But then she tensed again when someone else followed him inside, and the reason for his mirth became apparent.

The beautiful red-haired Earthling woman laughed herself as she sauntered up to his side. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she protested, her voice a sultry purr. “You can’t convince me that there’s a female in this star system willing to bed down with the Phaetonian. At least not one who’s not drugged or completely conscious.”

Jadeite laughed harder, shaking his head as they neared the terrace—across the room from Raye, whom they still hadn’t noticed. “I’m telling you, Lena, this is straight from Z’s lips. Nobody knows who it is exactly, but he’s definitely seeing _someone.”_

“Well, there ya go,” Galena spouted airily. “Until someone sees physical proof of this mythical creature, I still say he’s enjoying a little too much one-on-one time.”

Jadeite turned to her with one golden brow arched high over his blue, blue eyes, handsome face pulled into an easy, heart-wrenching grin. “As if you’ve got any room to complain on that score,” he teased huskily. “I don’t think I’ve seen you with any other man since we were together last.” Galena just grinned wide and flirtatious, leaning closer and batting her long-lashed green eyes up at him.

“I keep holding out hope that a certain blonde General will stop playing hard to get and come crawling back to me.”

Raye felt as though a shard of glass was cutting through her chest as the voluptuous female warrior swayed closer to Jadeite, her expression playful but her face nonetheless tilting up as if inviting a kiss. Raye didn’t wait to see if her husband would take the Earthling whore up on her shamelessly blatant offer.

Her wounded heart was too terrified that the truth would be the one she simply couldn’t face.

“I suppose it _would_ be too much ask for two Earthlings to conduct themselves with even a fraction of something that passes for decorum.” Her voice—spoken aloud for the benefit of the non-telepath in her midst—was sharp and venomous, fueled by the jealousy twisting painfully in her gut.

At the sound of it Jadeite jerked straight and wrenched in her direction, expression torn between guilty surprise and pained resignation. Galena merely sighed somewhat heavily, rolling her eyes heavenward before twisting slightly to face her. Not in the least bit ashamed by her behavior, which only served to infuriate the Queen more.

“Raye,” her husband mumbled, somewhat inanely. “I . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Obviously,” she snapped. “Though I suppose it’s not too terribly surprising. Earthlings aren’t exactly known for their stellar intelligence, are they.”

The servants around her erupted into a firestorm of tittering and half-concealed giggles at that. Jadeite’s expression went blank, his fists tightening almost imperceptivity at his sides. But he didn’t respond. He never did. Why bother with her? There was no need to, not when he had someone like his precious First to amuse himself with.

“Oh I don’t know,” the female General suddenly murmured, her purring voice deceptively pleasant even while her green eyes glared in Raye’s direction. “We Earthlings were smart enough to discover a way to defeat the Negaverse, even when you and your precious Alliance were unable to do so. But then I suppose it’s possible you’ve not even noticed.” Galena gave her a perfectly false, sympathetic laugh. “I mean, those lounging afternoon naps of yours really cut into the day, don’t they.”

Raye’s jaw clenched, her volatile temper igniting like flame to dry tinder. Her violet eyes narrowed to slits, and almost instinctually she released a pulse of psychic power in Galena’s direction. One that was ultimately wasted, as her husband deflected and neutralized it easily with barely a wince of strain. His expression darkened slightly. “Raye,” he murmured in warning. She scowled at him, seething.

“You are going to allow her to insult me like that?” she demanded hotly. Jadeite merely sighed, almost pained.

“Well actually, to my accounting, you insulted her first—.”

“I want her removed. _Now.”_

Now his expression became clearly exasperated. “Raye, I’m not going to dismiss one of my best warriors and longest-standing friends.”

_Not over you._

He didn’t actually say it. But then, he didn’t have to. Raye heard it all the same, and the realization almost killed her. Jadeite didn’t love her. Hell, he probably didn’t even _like_ her. She was—and had always been—just a means to an end.

The hurt and anger boiled inside of Raye’s heart like a raging volcano. Her fists clenched—and though no one noticed it at the time—the braziers around the room suddenly seemed to flare brighter, the flames dancing higher for a split instant before sputtering back to normal range again. Yet it was a credit to her control that not an ounce of it showed on her face. Her expression became impassive instead, cool . . . even bored.

“Enough of this. Despite what _some_ might think, I do have duties to attend.” She turned slightly to the gaggle of serving girls behind her. “Have someone prepare my mount.” She glanced back at the two Earthlings, a calculating gleam in her amethyst eyes. “Perhaps your precious General would deign to accompany me on my journey.”

Jadeite blinked, then opened his mouth—no doubt to protest from the look on his face. Raye spoke again before he was able to.

“She _is_ one of your best, is she not? The Dunes can be a savage place. Surely you would want the best protection for your _wife_ , would you not?” Raye finished, somehow managing not to choke on the sarcasm in her tone.

Jadeite’s brow was furrowed now, blue eyes sharp. “What in Stars’ name do you need to go into the Dunes for?”

Though he had only been on Mars for a month or so now, even he was aware of how dangerous the restless scarlet wastes could become. Raye sneered.

“I haven’t made it a habit to explain myself to you before now, have I Earthling?” she snapped. “What makes you think I’d start now?”

Jadeite tensed, but Galena suddenly stepped forward. Her expression was carefully shuttered, though her green eyes were sharp and accessing. “No, Jade,” she murmured. “It’s fine. If the _Queen_ needs an escort, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

The only male in the room glanced back and forth between the two women who were practically hissing at one another, knowing that this could only end badly but not having a clue as to how he could diffuse the situation. Then Jadeite nearly threw his hands up in surrender. Maybe it would do the both of them some good to duke it out amongst themselves. If he was a smart man, he’d stay the hell out of it. And Jadeite liked to think that he was a fairly intelligent sort—Jorowyn’s opinion on the matter notwithstanding.

“Fine,” he agreed, turning on his heel to leave the room. “Just don’t kill each other,” he threw somewhat flippantly over his shoulder.

Having utterly no idea how ironic that warning would become.

Doing her best not to smirk in victory, Raye turned on her heel and led the way out of the commons. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her rational self was trying desperately to argue why her sudden plan was an awful, horrible idea. Her temper had taken rein for the moment, however. Thus the volatile Martian Queen stalked out into the courtyard and up to the snow white nefta that was waiting for her, already saddled and bridled.

When her husband had first been introduced to nefta, he’d laughed and said they reminded him of a cross between something he called a horse and something called a camel. Raye was unfamiliar with these Earthling creatures. She had been raised among nefta, however, which were amazingly sturdy and deceptively fleet of foot, bred to flourish in the harsh landscape of the Martian deserts.

Raye mounted her nefta—a female she’d named Vespa—with an ease that belied her familiarity with the creatures and the action. Galena was slower to do so, and Raye gloated somewhat spitefully until the General finally managed to find her seat on the grayish male that she’d been given. Unable to develop a soothing mental connection with the beast, she had a much more difficult time in settling him as well, so that the nefta pranced uneasily and nearly unseated her once. Yet the fire-haired female managed to stay in the saddle, adapting to the challenge with annoying swiftness.

Raye turned away soon after, and a mental nudge to Vespa’s mind had the white nefta taking off in a swift gallop. Galena was right behind her. The two women rode through the gates of the massive palace, out into the bustling bazaar beyond. Normally Raye loved to meander through the tents and stalls, taking in the richness of her culture and visiting with her people. Today, however, she had a purpose. Recognizing her distinctive garb, the people clogging the streets immediately hastened out of Raye’s path. It wasn’t long at all before she was exiting the city itself, and heading out into the vast wasteland beyond. The red dunes of Mars were ever-shifting, a constantly moving landscape. One that held many wonders, as well as many deadly dangers.

And today she rashly directed Vespa toward one of the deadliest.

_Raye! Do not do this!_

Scowling, Raye determinedly shut her mind off from her mother’s desperate warnings. Galena would answer for her actions. One way or another.

Unaware of the danger, the Earthling General followed along silently, never once asking where they were going or why they were going there. Probably because the woman had no doubt guessed that Raye had no real business out in the Dunes—at least none beyond the confrontation that was coming. Raye finally reined Vespa in on the edge of the last portion of semi-solid ground, before the patchwork of stone and rock gave way to an endless sea of scarlet sand beyond it. Here she dismounted, then slowly turned to face the other woman—who had dismounted as well.

“So,” the Earthling sneered, crossing her arms. “Is this where you have some assassins jump out from behind some rocks and have me killed?”

Raye scowled at the woman’s continued flippancy. Her fists clenched. “You are in love with my husband,” she spat the truth, at last.

Galena didn’t deny it.

What did surprise Raye, however, was that there was no gloating pleasure on her face. No laughter. No knowing, superior look. Just a wary resignation. And . . . a sadness, which confused her. Something of that confusion must have shown on her face, because Galena suddenly let out a somewhat bitter chuckle, shaking her head.

“You two make a helluva pair, I tell you. Jade is so damned in love with you he’s completely blind to everything else. And _you’re_ so in love with him that you’ve apparently become just as dense.”

All the wind was ripped right out of her sails at that. Raye blinked, stunned. “What? I-I’m not . . . I mean . . . .” The beautiful warrior-woman lifted a skeptical eyebrow, forcing Raye to sputter to a halt. She stood for a long, uncomfortable moment, and then her shoulders visibly drooped. “Well he certainly is not in love with _me,”_ she muttered, pained. All of her anger had gone, leaving an aching hurt in its wake.

“No, not at all,” Galena seemed to agree, then she suddenly let out a scoffing bark of laugher. “He only loves you enough to risk becoming the system’s biggest fool just to make you happy,” she suddenly spat, tone accusing and more than a touch bitter. “Jade lets you say whatever the hell you want, do whatever the hell you want. Even though doing so makes him look like a weakling and a coward in the eyes of your people in the process. He’s lost almost every single shred of respect he built for himself during the war, become a complete laughingstock among the soldiers. All because of you.” Galena glared, and the Martian Queen was somewhat stunned at the moisture that was suddenly rimming the other woman’s eyes. “Yes, I love him. I always have. But I’m also woman enough to know that I’m not what he wants, or needs. Stars only know why, for some reason he only wants you. He has from the moment he first laid eyes on you. The only question left is, are _you_ woman enough to take him?”

Raye just stared at her, somewhat stunned. Jadeite wanted her? She hadn’t actually killed what spark of affection he had held for her so many months ago, on their wedding night? Could it really be that simple?

A sudden roar of bestial fury shook the ground around them, causing the two nefta to rear in terror and then bolt back the way they’d come. Raye felt her belly sink into her toes with her own fear and dread.

“Oh no!” she gasped. Eyes wide, Galena drew her sword and whirled this way and that, looking for the threat.

“What in the hell _was_ that?!” the warrior demanded in a fearful hiss, as the ground continued to roil and buck beneath their feet.

With her jealous fury gone, Raye could recognize what an awful thought she’d had to abandon Galena to this creature—known as the Beast of the Dunes. A primal thing, powerful beyond reckoning. The fiercest predator her planet had, it usually took a team of at least ten to fifteen warriors to bring one down. The young Queen wasn’t sure what sort of skills the female General possessed, but she knew for a fact that she herself was no match for it.

Still, she had to try.

There was no time to warn Galena of what was coming. Seconds after her question was uttered, the sands before them erupted outward and a massive red-scaled beast burst forth. As terrible as any Youma of the Negaverse, the Beast of the Dunes was at least thirty feet long, covered in thick, sand-roughened scales that glinted dully in the sunlight. It’s gaping maw opened wide with another furious roar—revealing the rows of jagged, yellowed teeth within that were nearly as big as her arm. A long, spike-tipped tail whipped back and forth menacingly and small, vestigial leathery wings flapped half-heartedly in the arid wind. Eons ago perhaps the beast had been an airborne creature, but it had long since adapted to swimming through the vast sands instead.

Inwardly she was faint with terror, though her sheer determination had shoved such feelings aside for the moment. Enough so that Raye marched forward toward the creature, ignoring Galena’s hoarse shouts of warning behind her. Instead she focused all of her attention—all of her will—on the Beast, reaching out with her mind and trying to force a link with it like she had with her nefta.

Immediately Raye was buffeted with chaotic thoughts, a barely formed consciousness soaked with primal rage and fury. It threatened to drown her away, but the Queen held fast. A grimace of pain twisted her features as the Beast reared back and roared again. So focused was she on attempting to form a link with it, Raye didn’t even flinch when one if it’s massive paws came hurtling in her direction.

Instead, Galena pounced in from behind her, deflecting the deadly claws from her with a fierce swipe of her sword. Unfortunately she paid the price for the maneuver, yelling out as one of those claws caught her in the thigh, ripping open the flesh and muscle near to the bone. The warrior stumbled, blood pouring down her leg.

 _Heed me!_ Raye called out again to the Beast, putting every ounce of willpower she yet possessed behind the attempt. She wasn’t ready to die. She had far too much left in this world that she wanted to do, to experience. It would not end like this. Face knit with concentration, Raye projected waves of calm, soothing thoughts, trying to force away the primal fury that filled the Beast’s mind. Amazingly the huge beast stumbled slightly, blinking it’s yellow, lamp-like eyes in her direction. She had managed to slow it down, at least, if not completely stop it.

Galena saw the advantage, and the warrior in her immediately moved to capitalize on it. Despite her deep wound, she lifted her sword again and ran forward. Yet her blade was easily deflected by the Beast’s thick armor of scales, and the action swiftly broke what small link Raye had been able to form. With a furious scream the creature batted Galena aside with a negligent swipe of its paw—tossing her aside like a doll. Then it whirled toward Raye, yellow eyes almost glowing with fury. It lifted up, and Raye had only an instant to prepare herself, to realize what was coming. And she only had one thought.

_I’m so sorry . . . ._

And then a column of yellow-white flame burst from the Beast’s throat, roaring out and completely enveloping the young Martian Queen before it.

In the next moment, every man, woman and child on Mars heard the sound of Jadeite’s psychic scream of rage and fear.

An instant later he touched down near-by in a shower of red sand thrown aside from the impact of his landing. Jadeite had set out after them soon after they left, after Delphi had warned him that Raye was up to something. But he’d been too late. Too late.

The powerful warrior stalked forward fearlessly, ruthlessly wresting control of the massive beast in front of him with his own mind—which was a font of his own rage and fury at the moment. The creature reared back and away from Jadeite immediately, letting out a screech of fear. It tried to struggle somewhat futilely for a few moments, then finally turned around and dove back into the sands from whence it had come, fleeing in terror. Jadeite stared at the indention in the sand for several heartbeats, fists clenched, trying to work himself up to turning around and facing her body. He knew what he would find, and his stomach heaved at the thought of it. Mere flesh couldn’t withstand that kind of punishing heat unscathed. She would be charred and blackened, a twisted husk of her former self, and it was going to kill him to have to face it. To accept that he had failed, that he had lost her.

“Jadeite?”

His entire body jerked as that trembling, husky voice sounded. And for a moment he almost refused to turn, terrified his mind was playing tricks on him. It couldn’t possibly be . . . .

And yet, when he finally spun around, he was utterly stunned to find his wife standing where she had been—completely unharmed. Her skin was a shade too pale, a small trickle of blood oozing from one of her nostrils from the psychic strain she’d caused herself, but otherwise she was untouched. She was alive. She was okay. He had utterly no clue as to how she had managed it, but the Beast’s fire breath hadn’t touched her at all.

Slowly, the bone-chilling terror that had enveloped him from the moment of Delphi’s warning, the terror he’d felt at coming so close to losing her, turned to rage.

Raye was still reeling from what had happened—unable to explain how or why the fire hadn’t harmed her—when she was suddenly faced with an all new danger. The young Queen gulped in nervous apprehension as Jadeite’s tanned face slowly darkened with such a look of fury it caused a tremor of fear to snake down her spine. She had never seen her husband lose his temper, before now. Suddenly the Beast of the Dunes didn’t seem near so threatening as the man before her now.

“What in the _hell_ were you doing out here?” he demanded in a low roar, and Raye flinched.

“Ease up, Jade,” Galena suddenly called, and Raye turned slightly to see the warrior limping in their direction. Her face was pained, but her gaze was steady and determined. “I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going, and I’d forgotten about the reports of those dragon-things.”

Raye gaped, stunned. After everything that she had done, all the horrible things she had said, Galena was trying to cover for her. It would be easy enough to hold her silence, to let the Earthling take the blame for this. But Raye’s heart was already filled to the brim with shame and regret, she didn’t think she could take any more of it. Instead she stepped forward, head bowed slightly.

“It was my fault,” she announced softly. “In my anger and spite, I thought to punish your friend. I brought her out here on purpose, hoping the Beast would appear. I . . . I planned on abandoning her here,” she admitted hoarsely, head hanging even lower, stunning both of them. “It was an awful, horrible thing to do—to even think about—and I am deeply ashamed of myself for doing so.” Raye swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her now-dry throat. “I . . . I submit myself to whatever punishment my husband deems necessary.”

In front of her, Jadeite was forced to breathe deeply several times, trying to get a handle on his temper. She had finally forced his hand, it seemed. So be it.

“Return to the palace,” he snapped out harshly, even as her nefta suddenly loped back into view—having been called back by his telepathic call. “Make yourself ready in the Grand Hall in one hour.”

Raye visibly trembled at that, her belly clenching with fear. It seemed she had finally pushed her even-tempered husband too far. He finally meant to punish her in the way of her people—and publically, what’s worse. Raye didn’t protest his declaration, however. She merely nodded acceptance before turning on her heel and doing as she’d been told. Raye rode back to the palace alone, moving determinedly to her room in order to prepare for what was coming, resigned to her fate and to the pain it would cause. She had flouted her husband too publically, for too long. And now her childish temper had nearly caused someone to be killed. Raye knew she deserved the punishment, and she was determined to meet it with dignity.

Still, despite her resolve, her hands shook wildly as she entered the Grand Hall an hour later. The proud Queen was dressed in a plain white, backless robe meant for this very purpose, her hair bound in a loose braid and pulled over one narrow shoulder. Her knees felt like jelly, but Raye lifted her chin and forced herself to move forward anyhow. Toward where Jadeite stood waiting for her at the end of the corridor, the black reed crop clenched in one fist and hanging at his side. Raye did her best to ignore the sea of faces that had turned out to see the shrewish girl finally get her due, or Galena’s sympathetic stare—which somehow made her feel even worse, if such were possible. Her parents were thankfully, blessedly absent. Raye wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to endure this shame if her mother were here.

The room was hushed as the young Queen came to a stop on the marble steps, slowly kneeling down in front of the simple alter of sorts that jutted out from them. A burly servant approached and Raye obediently put her hands on the stone, allowing him to strap her wrists with the leather bindings meant to keep her still and immobile. Then he stepped back, and Jadeite finally approached her. Raye didn’t meet his gaze, staring down hard at the floor instead. Her cold and clammy fists clenched, tensing up despite her determination that this was the right thing to do when her husband moved to stand behind her kneeling form.

There was a long, agonizing moment of hesitation. And then the edges of her vision seemed to ripple, an instant before the reed came down across her bare back with a whistling _thwack!_ Raye’s entire body jerked with the sting, though she managed not to cry out. By the fifth one, a strained whimper found its way past her clenched teeth. On the tenth lash she was shaking, and couldn’t hold back the tortured cry that ripped out of her throat.

A second after that, the crop was thrown to the ground in front of her. The leather straps holding her down suddenly ripped free from an unseen force, and Raye found herself scooped up off the floor like a babe. Shaking somewhat from the fire across her back, Raye clung to Jadeite as best she could, burying her head beneath his chin as he strode quickly and purposefully from the chamber. No one followed them.

And then, as soon as they left the hall, Raye instantly felt better. She lifted up slightly, confused, as she no longer felt any pain at all. Was he suppressing it somehow? Not entirely sure what was going on, Raye kept silent as Jadeite carried her through the palace until he entered the royal suite. The door slammed shut behind him from the force of his mind. Only then did he finally put her down on her own feet again. Then he took her by the shoulders and turned her until she stood facing him, forced to face the smoldering hot coals of his still-furious blue eyes.

“If you _ever_ make me do something like that again, I swear to the Stars in heaven I really _will_ beat you!”

Raye just blinked up at him for several moments, confused and out of sorts. What did he mean, he _would_ beat her? Hadn’t he already done? And then she suddenly remembered that strange, rippling sensation in her vision just before his first lash struck, and Raye realized then what had happened. Jadeite had cloaked the entire hall in an illusion. Making everyone—including her—think that he’d actually punished her, when he hadn’t. Raye didn’t need a mirror to know that her back was as smooth and unblemished as it had been that morning, not a welt or bruise in sight.

For a moment she just stood there, stunned speechless. Rather in awe of his ability, not only to control the Beast of the Dunes so effortlessly, but at how easily he had just manipulated the minds of over a hundred people. It had felt so _real . . . ._ How did one man possess so much power and not be moved to abuse it all the time?

Her throat worked for a moment, then she managed in a faintly trembling voice, “why . . . why would you do that?”

Jadeite let out another growl at that, still clearly angry and more than a little frustrated. “You think I _want_ to beat you, Raye?” he snarled. “What, do you think I’d actually enjoy the thought of hurting you, or any other woman for that matter? Do you really care so little for the kind of man that I am, that you honestly believe me capable of something like that? Do you—,” He suddenly cut himself off, turning away from her with another frustrated noise. “Forget it,” he snapped, suddenly sounding bone-tired, and strangely defeated. “Just forget it. I’m tired of trying to explain myself.” Raye bit her lip, warring with herself for the barest of moments before she made a decision.

_Show me then._

She dropped down every ounce of mental defenses that she had, leaving herself completely open to a merge with him. Jadeite turned back toward her at that, brow furrowed slightly in confusion, and maybe even a touch of suspicion as well. Raye hesitated only a little before she took a step closer to him, eyes pleading. “Show me, Jadeite,” she whispered aloud. “Please. I . . . I _need_ to see. Please.”

Jadeite just stared down at her for several agonizing heartbeats, his expression shuttered. Raye felt her heart drop, but before she could turn away in defeat his expression suddenly hardened again, and then his mind thrust into hers with the same ruthless determination she remembered all those months ago.

Raye gasped, both from the suddenness of the maneuver as well as from the thoughts and emotions that were suddenly pouring through her mind. It wasn’t a complete merge, though. He was sharing himself but refusing to allow her inside of him, for whatever reason. Though for the moment, Raye was too preoccupied with what he was showing her, and it caused her wide eyes to water with equal parts awe and shame.

He loved her. He loved her more than he loved himself, in many ways. And she had repaid that with spite and anger, but he’d refused to react to it. Even despite the ridicule and disrespect it garnered from her people—which she now saw with horrible crystal clarity from his own eyes. Yet still he had never blamed her, never grew to hate her. Patiently waiting for the day where she could finally come to accept him. But that day had never come.

Jadeite stood perfectly still before her now, expression almost defiant—as if waiting for her to throw the knowledge he’d just given her back in his face. And that realization pained her far more than his illusionary lashes had. Raye stepped forward until they were nearly touching, lifting her hands and carefully cradling his broad jaw in her fingers. Until his stern and shuttered expression slowly melted into a confused and uncertain one.

 _You know very little of me as well, my King,_ she whispered softly into his mind, using his title for the first time and meaning it, _but the fault of that is mine alone to bear. What say you we try and remedy that a little, hm-m?_ She continued to leave herself open, inviting Jadeite to merge fully with her. Yet still, he hesitated, expression uncertain. Raye pleaded up at him with her eyes, her slender fingers caressing his jaw and burying into his thick, curly hair. _Let me in. Feel me, Jade,_ she coaxed, her mind-voice soft and soothing. _Please . . . ._

Finally Jadeite dropped the last few barriers between them, and the merge completed with a soothing rush. Raye shivered a little at the feel of it, silently marveling at how she had ever thought it a bad thing. Merging with him didn’t make her vulnerable or weak, as she had childishly claimed before. Rather the rush of strength, the exhilaration, the deeply intimate connection with another being was simply indescribable. And a small smile slowly curved her lips as his blue eyes began to widen from the thoughts and emotions he gleaned from her mind.

The young Queen’s breath quickened in wicked anticipation when those muscled arms curled tight around her then, pulling her up flush against his harder frame. Her own arms lifted, curling eagerly around his neck in return. Jadeite suddenly grinned, boyish and adorable.

 _Hell, if I knew I’d get these kind of results, I would have beaten you weeks ago. Maybe I should beat you more often?_ he teased, blue eyes twinkling. Then he laughed as her violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

_If you ever even attempt to come near me with a crop when I am undeserving of the punishment, I’ll make your very existence a test in living hell—!_

Her seething mental tirade stuttered to a halt when he suddenly bent, kissing her deeply. Raye arched into it with a whimper of eagerness, clinging to him somewhat desperately, her grip almost strangling. She had ached and longed for this for so long, Raye was terrified that she would wake up and that this would all be just another dream.

A wave of soothing warmth swept over her at that, even as Jadeite continued to kiss her thoroughly. _Easy, little ember,_ he whispered in her mind. _I’m not going anywhere. Except maybe to the bed,_ he amended wickedly even as he started to slowly back her up toward the piece of furniture in question, still not lifting up from where he was apparently trying to devour her lips. Not that she was complaining, not even a little. Raye made no move to protest as she found herself suddenly tumbled back onto the bed behind her. Surrendering her mind, her body—and even more incredibly—her very heart to the powerful warrior above her. There was no weakness in that surrender, however. No vulnerability.

With him, she was strong.


	27. Legends of the Past

Serenity jumped out of bed and raced for the porcelain bowls nearby. The young queen hit her knees on the thick fur rug and just managed to get herself over the vessel before her traitorous stomach heaved. After a moment or two of pitiable retching, a soothing hand began rubbing up and down her back and another reached out to helpfully hold back her long blond hair out of the way. She was sick for several minutes more until finally, when there was nothing left to purge, Serenity sat back on her haunches with a soft groan.

Diana—who had knelt beside her—had a moist towel ready. The Mauian helped her wash her face and rinse her mouth, then helped her mistress back toward the bed she’d just vacated. Once Serenity was seated in the feather-down once more, she did an admirable job of avoiding Diana’s sharp red eyes. Fiddling with the edge of the black and gold blanket across her lap instead and becoming incredibly engrossed in her antics.

“Sere . . . this is the fourth time this week,” Diana pointed out after a long stretch of silence, tone gentle yet stubborn. “How much longer are you going to deny the truth?”

Serenity’s vision had gone glassy, and she just shook her head at that, biting her lip. “I can’t be pregnant, Di,” she whispered tremulously. “I just can’t.”

Diana’s silver tail twirled behind her restlessly, her expression mixed between sympathetic and confused. “I thought you wanted to have children,” the Mauian ventured. Serenity shook her head slightly, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had fallen.

“I _do,_ it’s just . . .” She blew out a terse sigh, glaring at nothing in particular. “I still don’t know for sure how Endymion really feels about me,” Serenity revealed somewhat uncomfortably, pained. “He never . . . he never really talks to me. It’s almost like he purposefully tries to always keep me at arm’s length. At least emotionally,” she amended after a slight pause, tone torn between annoyance and guilt.

Annoyed for obvious reasons, but guilty because of her own lack of willpower where her husband was concerned. No matter how many times she promised herself that she would stand firm—and force Endymion to talk to or spend time with her doing something _other_ than make love—as soon as the man came within ten feet of her, her brain turned to jelly. By the time he actually started touching her, she’d forgotten all about her convictions. Drugged senseless by the wicked pleasure he made her feel, she couldn’t remember why it could possibly be a bad thing until long after he’d left her again. It had happened just that morning, in fact.

Endymion had awoken her shortly before dawn with his now achingly familiar kisses and fiery caresses. And like always, she’d been powerless to deny him. Not even _wanting_ to deny him at the time, surrendering eagerly to his touch just like she always did. He’d brought her to peak three times before he was through, and Serenity—exhausted—had curled up against his chest and fallen back asleep.

She woke up alone.

Heated words whispered in the dark. That was all he seemed willing or able to give her. She wanted so much more than that from him, and because of her lack, the young Queen was beginning to feel more like a well-pampered whore than a wife.

And now this? Serenity’s hands smoothed over her still-flat belly beneath the blankets, worrying on her lower lip, gaze troubled. She had tried desperately to deny it, at first, not wanting it to be true. Yet after her woman’s time failed to come for the second month in a row, with two straight weeks of getting sick at random parts of the day for no good reason at all—and then be perfectly fine afterwards—as well as needing to take a short nap in the afternoons, she was unable to ignore the truth any longer.

“I’ve tried so hard to get him to open up to me, Di, and nothing I’ve done has worked,” Serenity mumbled sadly. “What if he suddenly starts paying attention to me after he finds out I’m carrying?”

Diana winced, then ventured, “well . . . would that be so bad?” Serenity scowled.

“Yes! I want him to love me because he loves _me!_ Not because I’m having his baby!”

The Mauian had to sigh at that, reaching over to hand the young Queen a handkerchief when a few miserable—and perhaps slightly over-emotional due to her delicate condition—sobs broke loose. “Have you told him of your own feelings?”

Serenity paused, then winced somewhat guiltily. “Not . . . in so many words, no. But I’ve shown them in other ways,” she insisted at Diana’s raised brow. “I’ve tried very hard to make time for us to spend together, and when he _doesn’t_ manage to weasel his way out of it, I try to help us get to know each other better. But I’m the only one who ever does any talking,” she revealed, miffed. “I have to talk for the both of us. I swear that man probably knows more about me than _you_ do, and I barely know the names of his parents or when he was born.”

“Maybe you should just come straight out with it?” Diana suggested then. “All of this dancing around and dropping hints for him hasn’t worked for you so far,” she pointed out, tone practical. “Just tell him up front how you feel.”

Serenity gulped a little, eyes wide. “But . . . what if he really _doesn’t_ love me?” she whispered tremulously, voicing her very worst fear aloud. Diana shook her head, however.

“I don’t know, Sere. I don’t buy it. A man can’t want you _that_ much and _not_ have feelings for you . . . can he?” If Serenity weren’t in such an upset state, she might have heard the faint note of uncertainty in Diana’s tone at that. Almost as if the Mauian was trying to get a little reassurance for herself, as well.

Serenity mulled over that for a bit before she finally sat up a little straighter, a determined glint to her eyes. “Alright,” she heaved. “I’ll ask him tonight, after the Council. But don’t tell anyone else about . . . a-about the baby,” she fumbled, hands smoothing over her stomach again—almost protective. “Not yet. I want to be sure about how Endymion feels first.”

Diana sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, Sere. Just hurry up about it. You’re so slender—and he’s so enamored with you being naked—you probably won’t be able to hide it from him for very much longer.”

Serenity snorted slightly at that, but nodded agreement. The Mauian got up then, reaching for the tray she’d brought in earlier with Serenity’s breakfast. At first the thought of food made her still-queasy stomach roil, yet when Diana removed the cover it revealed only a few pieces of dried bread and some juice. No doubt her companion had anticipated her sickness. Serenity nibbled on the bread and sipped juice while Diana retreated into the Queen’s Room to fetch her something to wear for the day. The combination went a long way toward settling her stomach again.

An hour or so later Diana had Serenity’s long silvery-gold hair brushed and put up in it’s customary tails, and dressed in an elegant pearlescent gown that shimmered around the Queen’s willowy frame like wisps of a dream. Not only was it one of her more costly, but it also had a rather low-scooped, scallop neckline—embelished with tiny pearls and diamond chips. Serenity glanced down at her slightly-fuller-than-usual cleavage now put on impressive display, then back at her companion with a furrowed brow. Diana just shrugged defiantly at Serenity’s flabbergasted expression, tying the last laces at her back with a flourish.

“Well, it certainly can’t hurt.”

Serenity just rolled her eyes. “I’d be better served with a gown that goes from my chin to my toes,” she muttered darkly. “Then maybe he could say more than two words to me before he strips it off again.” Diana pursed her lips, her tail twitching playfully behind her legs.

“Well . . . at least he’s virile.”

The two friends met each others’ gaze in the mirror for a split instant after that before bursting into laughter. The stab of levity felt good, after all the stress she’d been feeling for so long. When they finally wound down again, Serenity was feeling much better. Heart lighter than it had been in days, she swept from the room then and Diana followed after.

The Silver Alliance would be meeting on Lunara today, for the first time since Endymion and the others had returned from Pluto. It would also be the first time since then that Serenity would get to see her friends face to face, and she was very excited about that. Enough so that she was able to push other worries to the back of her mind. For now, at least. They weren’t due to leave for Lunara for several hours yet, so Serenity went in search of something to occupy herself until it was time to go.

The Queen checked in with Maltha, but the older woman had everything about the staff well in hand—as she normally did—so there was nothing to oversee on that front. There were no immediate crisis or problems that needed her attention either, everything within the Golden Palace running along smoothly. Whatever servants and guards she passed through the halls were sure to stop and bow deeply to her, murmuring a very respectful greeting. Whatever Endymion had said to them—and whatever Jorowyn had done to Celestine weeks ago—had made an impression, apparently. It saddened her that she couldn’t win the love and respect of her new people on her own merit alone, but Serenity had forced herself not to dwell on things that she had no power to change.

Bored, Serenity found her feet moving toward a wing of the palace she didn’t normally frequent—one that had been given to the former Phaetonian Prince and what was left of his people. And if Diana became slightly more fidgety and restless because of it, Serenity didn’t notice. The sound of voices caught her attention, and the young Queen gravitated in that direction. Soon she found herself standing just outside of Jorowyn’s large office-of-sorts. The door was opened wide and the Phaetonian himself was seated negligently behind the desk, booted feet propped up onto the edge and crossed at the ankle. Four individuals were standing in front of him, each dressed in Earthling military leathers.

One was a tall, willowy redheaded man with piercingly pale blue eyes, who seemed to have a perpetual smirk twisting his handsome face. Serenity thought that his name was Wolframite, Nephrite’s First. Another was a beautiful redheaded woman, her left leg currently bandaged, though her expression didn’t betray any pain or discomfort, green eyes still sharp and discerning. Her name was Galena, if Serenity remembered correctly, Jadeite’s First. The third was a man of slight stature, a wild shock of pale green hair seeming to stick up in every which direction and golden eyes. Sylvanite, Zoisite’s First. And the last was a man she didn’t recognize at all, powerfully built with ink-black hair pulled into a tight tail off the back of his head and equally dark, hard eyes.

“Congratulations,” Jorowyn was pronouncing somewhat blandly, as the other four stood at attention before him. “The four of you just inherited a huge headache and a pile of paperwork.” The former prince tossed them each a thick sheaf of parchment. “Wolframite, you’re now officially the Warrior King of the West. Sylvanite, you’re now the Warrior King of the East. Galena, you’re the Warrior King—or Queen, rather—of the South. And Sulfur,” he addressed the dark-haired man that Serenity had never seen before, “you’re the new Warrior King of the North. Effective immediately,” Jorowyn finished, “so have fun catching up on half a year’s worth of work.”

“Do we have a say as to whether or not we accept these positions?” Sylvanite questioned, and Jorowyn smirked.

“Not particularly, no. It’s a ‘request’ from the Lord King himself. Each of you were nominated by your former superiors, and hand-picked by Endymion, Emery and myself. Not to worry, though, Sylvanite. I’m sure your Mercurian mistress will be welcome to accompany you to the Eastern Palace. That is if you can convince her to.” The man in question colored somewhat guiltily.

“How in Stars’ name do you know about that?” he demanded, and Jorowyn just shrugged negligently, reaching for his flask.

“A master never gives away his trade secrets.”

“Well rumor has it, you have a little piece on the side yourself, Jorowyn,” Wolframite suddenly commented. The Phaetonian in question visibly stiffened, and out in the hall Serenity’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Come on, Sere,” Diana suddenly urged, taking her by the arm and tugging the Queen away. “You don’t want to get caught eavesdropping on _him_. Stars know what the drunkard would do to us.”

Serenity was still so stunned at what she’d heard, she didn’t pick up on Diana’s forceful—almost guilty—tone of voice, or her flustered demeanor.

“Imagine that, Di,” she murmured instead as her companion continued to drag her farther down the hall, awed. “I didn’t know Jorowyn was seeing someone! I wonder who it could be?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” was the Mauian’s tight reply.

They rounded a corner, and then before either girl had a chance to react, they were bowled over by a figure rushing in the opposite direction, arms filled with rolls and rolls of parchment—which had completely obscured his vision. All three of them went down in a tangle of limbs and yelps of pain and surprise. Parchment rolls went everywhere, and so did several feathers.

Serenity slowly sat up, rubbing her head. “Ow,” she muttered almost to herself, wincing.

“Oh Stars, Serenity, are you alright?” Diana questioned beside her, almost panicked. It took Serenity a moment to register why she would be so worried. _The baby._

“I’m fine,” she assured, however, certain that this little tumble hadn’t caused any serious damage. Both girls turned to their assailant, and Serenity felt her eyebrows raise in surprise.

A young Phaetonian boy sat sprawled in front of them, his simple robes askew from the fall. His already large, lamp-like silver eyes were widened to the very limits with his shock and fear, fine-boned face a mask of horror. A pair of feathery wings were half-spread behind him—mostly bluish gray flecked with white and black spots, with the long flight feathers a bright scarlet red—and they trembled now with his distress even as they watched.

Diana scowled at him, incensed. “Just what do you think you’re doing, running around the halls like that!” she demanded sharply.

“I’m sorry!” he yelped, his voice painfully shifting octaves from a deep tenor to a squeaky falsetto and back again. “I-I-I didn’t . . . I mean . . . IwasinahurrytryingtogetthesescrollstoAvaissowecouldcopythenextmanuscriptandIwasn’tpayingattentiontowhereIwasgoingI’msosorrypleasedon’ttellLordJorowynhe’llkillme!”

Serenity and Diana both blinked in surprise, stunned at how he’d managed to get that out so fast, without a single breath in between. The Mauian continued to give him the evil eye, but Serenity’s soft heart took pity on his miserable expression.

“No harm done this time,” she assured. “Just be more careful in the future, or someone could seriously be hurt.” The boy nodded his head in eager agreement, so hard it sent his bright red curls bouncing.

Diana stood then, reaching down to help Serenity back to her feet. The Phaetonian boy managed to lift himself up out of the tangle of robes and parchment rolls after several clumsy, failed attempts. Serenity bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the poor thing. His reddened face looked miserable enough.

“What’s your name?” she asked after he’d straightened at last. He blinked at her, looking somewhat surprised.

“Oh, I’m called Gryphon,” he answered readily enough, voice still cracking with the onset of puberty, it seemed. “I’m Avais’ assistant.”

“And who is Avais?” Now the boy’s chest puffed out with importance and obvious pride.

“He’s a Phaetonian Scribe. We’ve been working to rewrite all of the manuscripts and scrolls that were lost when the planet was destroyed.” Serenity’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

The Libraries of Phaeton were said to have been immense, rivaled only by the meticulous record-keeping of the Plutonian Time Priests in accuracy and diversity.

“How can you rewrite them if they were lost?” The boy gave an adorably lopsided grin at that.

“We of the Scribe caste have exceptional memories. We can recall anything that we’ve ever seen or read with crystal clarity. Old Avais was familiar with almost everything in the library, and what he didn’t see, Prince Jorowyn remembers. We’ve got quite a lot done so far, but there’s much more yet to do. I’ll carry on the work myself, once . . . once Avais is no longer able.”

Serenity’s brow furrowed with sympathy at his sudden, despondent demeanor. “What’s wrong with Avais?” she questioned gently. Gryphon shifted on his sandaled feet, feathers rustling restlessly.

“Avais is quite old, but it’s the sickness that ails him the most.” At her confused look he continued, “he developed a strange illness not long after we came to stay on Earth. No one else has it, and so far none of the healers—not even Helios—have managed to cure him.” The boy’s large eyes were immeasurably sad. “I fear it won’t be long now before he succumbs to it. I’m still young yet. Back on Phaeton, most Scribes wouldn’t begin any official work until they turned eighteen at least, but our circumstances are unique, obviously. Avais and I are the only ones left of the Scribe caste, you see. So when he’s gone, I’ll be the only one left who can carry on his work.” Gryphon glanced down around him, suddenly recalling the piles of parchment he’d dropped and blanched. “Speaking of which, I better get these scrolls to him on the double.”

He bent, beginning to snatch up the rolls and clutch them to his chest, dropping a few again in his quest to grab more. Serenity sighed, smiling.

“Here, why don’t we help you.” She bent to pick up a few, ignoring his wide and horrified look.

“Oh b-but . . . I couldn’t . . . y-you’re the Queen!” he protested in a sputter.

“And in the interest of not having you run someone else over,” she teased, “I don’t think it’ll hurt me to carry a few scrolls down the hall.”

Diana laughed as she bent to scoop up several herself. Gryphon hesitated a little longer before he finally decided that he wouldn’t be able to change their minds. Soon, between the three of them, they had all the scrolls picked up and were heading back down the hallway toward Gryphon’s destination.

This turned out to be a huge, cavernous room with row upon row of shelves already stuffed to the brim with scrolls, manuscripts and the occasional leather-bound book. Gryphon led them over to a set of tables near the center, where a small, stooped creature sat busily scribbling away with quill and ink.

His skin was very pale and wrinkled with age, only a few wisps of long snow-white hair clinging to his otherwise bald scalp and floating down near to his elbows. A beard of the same clung to his chin, the ends disappearing beneath the edge of the table. His wings were a mottled white and gray, the feathers dulled with age as the wings themselves drooped somewhat tiredly behind him. As they approached, the man—Avais she would guess—lifted his face from his work and squinted at them.

“Eh? Gryphon? Is that you, boy?”

Serenity could now see that his pale blue eyes were covered in a thin, milky film, and she realized with a start that if he wasn’t blind already, he would be very soon.

“Y-yes Master,” Gryphon yelped, hurrying over to deposit his armload of scrolls into an awaiting bin. The older Phaetonian huffed.

“Where in the name of Jupiter’s Moons have you been all this time, boy?” he groused, his voice as dry and scratchy as the parchment rolls around him. “The storerooms aren’t so far away. Or did we take a detour to the kitchens again?”

Gryphon blanched, but Serenity finally took pity on him and stepped forward.

“Sorry for the delay, Master Avais,” she called, tone respectful and gently amused all at once. The ancient Phaetonian turned in her direction, blinking. “I believe the fault of that lies with me. Gryphon and I . . . ah . . . ran into one another in the hall, and I couldn’t help my curiosity. I fear I held him up asking several questions about your work, here.”

“Oh,” Avais muttered, most of his bluster stolen at that. Serenity and Diana came forward to deposit their armfuls as well, and both girls smiled at Gryphon’s mouthing the words ‘thank you’ to them. “Well then, I suppose that’s alright. Just . . . get back to work now, will you. We’ve much to do yet before this day is over.”

“Yes, Master,” Gryphon agreed before grabbing up a fresh roll and hurrying over to his own seat at another table nearby. Meanwhile Avais peered up at her curiously.

“Serenity,” he suddenly muttered, almost to himself. “Forty-sixth born in the line. Queen of Lunara by birth, Queen of Earth by marriage. Supposed direct descendant of the Keeper of Lunara.”

Serenity blinked, confused. “Keeper of Lunara?” she questioned, and Avais seemed to jerk a little—as if being removed from a daydream.

“Hm-m? What? Keeper?”

“You said I was a direct descendant of the Keeper of Lunara,” she coaxed, and the old man nodded.

“Ah, yes. The Keepers. Fascinating legend, that.”

There was another long pause. Diana sighed impatiently.

“Well are you gonna tell us about it? Or just let us wonder?” Serenity gave her a reproachful look, which the Mauian just shrugged fearlessly under.

Avais huffed a moment, indignant, but apparently the chance to tell a good story outweighed his annoyance. He settled himself more comfortably in his heavily cushioned chair, then began—his formerly feeble voice taking on a new strength and vigor.

“Eons ago, when our solar system was still young and filled with primordial dangers, it is said that the spirits of the planets themselves rose up to defend us. To do this, they imbued a native of their planet with extraordinary powers and control of the very elements that created them. These ten individuals became known as Keepers; the Keeper of Mercury, the Keeper of Venus, the Keeper of Lunara, the Keeper of Mars, the Keeper of Phaeton, the Keeper of Jupiter, the Keeper of Saturn, the Keeper of Uranus, the Keeper of Neptune, the Keeper of Pluto. Legend has it that their awesome abilities were near to godlike in strength, unsurpassed by anything the system had ever seen before them, or since. And on each planet, it was their Keepers who were eventually named rulers of their budding Kingdoms once the wars had ended. Over time, however, the powers of the Keepers were no longer needed. And so, the spirits of the planets retreated once more, lulled by peace and prosperity, sleeping deep until they are needed again.”

Serenity and Diana both stared at him in awed silence for a moment before Avais shook himself—a few ragged feathers flying loose from his droopy wings and joining the small pile already gathered around his chair.

“Or so the legend goes, at least,” he pronounced off-handedly with a shrug, his voice faint once again. “One can never be too sure of the truth behind such tales, since there are no factual records left intact to validate them.”

All at once Avais was wracked with bitter coughing. His already stooped form curled inward as he hunched over with the strength of it, the fit continuing for several painful moments. Gryphon half-rose from his chair, expression worried. Serenity stepped forward, wincing when she saw that the hand he’d used to cover his mouth was now flecked with blood. She put a gentle hand on one of his shoulders—inwardly shocked at how thin and frail he was beneath his voluminous robes.

“Are you going to be okay?” she murmured, filled with sympathetic worry. “Gryphon said that you were sick.” The old Phaetonian just smiled somewhat ruefully, reaching for a handkerchief already stained with spots of blood, some old and some new.

“I am an old man, young one, and it is the nature of all living things to pass from this world eventually. Do not grieve for me.”

“My lady?”

All of them turned to see a servant standing in the hall. He bowed. “Forgive me for intruding, but the Lord King is asking for you in the transporter room. I believe he is ready to depart for Lunara.”

Serenity sighed, loathe to leave Avais like this, but the Phaetonian just smiled at her and patted her hand.

“The Spirits will be with you, young one. Good luck.”

Serenity frowned a little at his odd phrasing, then shrugged. She murmured a goodbye to Avais and Gryphon, then turned and left the chamber once more, Diana following after. Not long after, all thoughts of Avais and his strange tale had been pushed aside for more pressing worries in her mind. Namely how she was ever going to work up the nerve to confront Endymion about her feelings, and how she would ever be able to cope if his answer was the one her heart feared most.


	28. New Allies, Old Enemies

Endymion stood off to the side and watched silently as Jorowyn fiddled with the control console of the planetary transporter. The Phaetonian grumbled to himself, low enough that the King had no hopes of translating his meaning other than the fact that he was frustrated. Endymion let out a pained sigh, shaking his head slightly. He had hoped that the upcoming promotion might have made a more positive impact on Jorowyn, but no such luck apparently. The deposed Prince was still dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, his long hair a somewhat wild and unkempt river falling down his back.

Jorowyn suddenly hauled back and kicked the console, hard enough to dent the metal siding. Endymion’s eyebrow lifted.

“Problem?”

“Nope,” Jorowyn shot back without turning, tone short and abrupt. “Just making a point.”

“Uh . . . huh.”

Before Endymion had a chance to question the odd behavior further, a set of guards suddenly pulled the doors wide, heralding the entrance of his wife and her handmaid. The King took in the sight of Serenity like a mild punch in the gut. The silvery white gown she wore hugged her slender frame in all the right places, enough so that Endymion was forced to shift on his feet and inconspicuously adjust the front of his leathers in order to remain comfortable. Which made him frown heavily in annoyance. It was becoming more and more apparent that Serenity was like a drug to him, a dangerous thought. Hell, he’d just had her that morning and it didn’t matter. He wanted her again. And again, and again—never satisfied. It was dangerous. He needed to find a way to distance himself from her—and fast—before he lost all semblance of control.

To that effect he purposefully didn’t return the somewhat shy smile she shot him as she neared, nodding slightly instead and keeping his expression carefully neutral.

“Coordinates are set,” Jorowyn announced, still terse without looking back from the controls in front of him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Let’s be off,” Endymion agreed, stepping up onto the platform in front of the transporter. He thought he saw Serenity heave a sigh, but she said nothing as she came to stand beside him. Diana was her silent shadow, staying behind and slightly to the right of her mistress at all times. Though, suddenly the Mauian stumbled slightly with a gasp. Before the slight girl could take a painful tumble, Jorowyn was suddenly standing behind her, catching the female against his chest with one arm wrapped around her waist in one of his eerily deft maneuvers. The both of them froze for a fraction of an instant before the Phaetonian firmly set her away from him again and onto the platform.

“Watch yourself, kitty,” he sneered dryly. “I’m fresh outta catnip.”

Endymion felt his brow twitch while Diana’s face bloomed scarlet and her matching eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You’re going to be fresh out of eyeballs if you keep it up, bird-boy,” she hissed, her clawed fingers flexing as if in preparation to make good on the threat.

“Children,” Endymion called loudly, tone droll.

Diana had the good graces to look contrite. Jorowyn merely rolled his eyes shamelessly before activating the transporter with a negligent motion. Endymion just shook his head slightly before offering his arm to Serenity—which she took readily enough—and leading her through the distortion of magic that appeared before them. Diana wasn’t far behind, and then Jorowyn brought up the rear.

In mere moments they were stepping out onto the receiving platform on Lunara. The stark white, silver and crystal landscape was almost blinding compared to Earth’s more colorfully muted atmosphere and it took a moment for Endymion’s eyes to adjust. Once they did, he gazed out on all the assembled. He and Serenity were the last to arrive.

His former Generals stood first. They were rulers in their own right now, no longer the Warrior-Kings. This difference was made most apparent by their manner of dress; no longer in the armor and leathers that Endymion had become so accustomed to seeing them, but rather the garb of their new homes. Malachite stood first, as always, and the skin that showed through his sleeveless vest-like top was even more bronzed than Endymion remembered. His queen Mina stood at his side, very obviously pregnant. Then Zoisite, in a pale tunic and tailored breeches, Ami beside him. Nephrite came next, in a leather jerkin and breeches in hues of the forest. Lady Lita stood with him, looking much more . . . domesticated than the last time Endymion had seen her. And finally Jadeite, in a billowy silk ensemble that fitted him only at the wrists, at his narrow waist in the form of a wide sash-like belt, and then at the ankles where his boots began. Queen Raye stood beside him, draped in scarlet silk.

Endymion’s gaze lingered on the eight of them for a moment, slowly picking up on telling subtleties. Such as how Mina leaned comfortably into Malachite’s side, looking completely unperturbed by his stoic expression—and how his large hand never strayed from the small of her back. How Ami’s fingers remained threaded through Z’s as they stood easily side by side. The way that Lita kept glancing worriedly up into Neph’s troubled gaze, and the way he tried to soothe it with a reassuring—if strained—smile. And the silent glances that passed between Jadeite and Raye, along with the occasional smile, hinted at the intimately telepathic conversation going on between the two.

Endymion was at once hit with a wave of relief, that they were all apparently settling in so well, that mingled oddly with the swift pang of envy that dug in his gut. Striving to ignore it for now, the young monarch nodded to the elder Serenity as she stepped up to greet them. There was a slight hesitation as his little wife stared at her mother, and then a moment later she’d skipped forward and engulfed the older woman in a faintly teary hug. Endymion fought away the slight smile that wanted to form at the sight, sighing instead. He’d known that mother and daughter both had missed one another, though security being what it was he hadn’t been able to allow them to travel in order to see each other in person until now. Months later and they still hadn’t seen any sign of the threat that Trista had warned them of. While they wouldn’t stop all precautions, he was willing to start relaxing at least some of their wariness.

Diana quietly slipped away to embrace her own parents, who stood nearby. Jorowyn followed Endymion silently as he approached his former generals. Their wives broke away and approached Serenity instead, each engulfing her in happy, teary hugs of their own.

“Well,” he murmured with a smirk, “you’re all looking remarkably domesticated.” That was met with varying smiles and chuckles all the way around. And also a few concerned glances, which Endymion did his best to ignore.

After a few more moments of allowing the girls to become reacquainted, Endymion called the meeting to session and everyone—with the exception of the Mauians—began filing their way into the council chambers.

The thrones for Earth had been moved to the slightly raised dais before the huge round table, as he was now the presiding Praetorian. He moved to take his place there, Serenity seating herself in the smaller chair beside him, and the others took their places as well. After sorting through some preliminary issues, Endymion motioned and Jorowyn—who had been lounging in the shadows—stepped forward.

“As you all know Pluto is still without leadership, and—especially with the remaining Youma and this mysterious threat still looming over us—we cannot allow it to remain so. Technically speaking Jorowyn is the last remaining heir to the Plutonian throne, but he has declined it.”

“Stars be praised,” Rhea muttered, though loud enough that most heard her. The elder Serenity shot her a quelling look and the Queen of Uranus subsided.

“Instead,” Endymion continued a little more blandly, “Jorowyn has agreed to act as Regent of Pluto until such time as Trista abdicates her duties to the Time Gate and takes the throne herself, or produces an heir to do so.” There was a heartbeat or two of utter silence, and then Jorowyn sneered.

“Well don’t everybody thank me all at once.”

Endymion merely shook his head slightly. “Jorowyn, if you’d take your seat, please,” he sighed.

The Phaetonian loped over to the two thrones set aside for Pluto and plopped down into the larger one, shifting slightly until one of his long legs was thrown negligently over the arm rest and dangling precariously close to Rhea’s scowling face.

Endymion closed his eyes for a moment and sent up a swift prayer for patience. Before he could continue the meeting, however, a Lunaran soldier suddenly stepped inside the chamber.

“Pardon, my lord, but we’re receiving a distress signal.” Endymion immediately straightened in his seat, frame tensed.

“From where?”

The soldier fidgeted. “Ah . . . from . . . from Nemesis, my lord.”

Endymion frowned in confusion, while Jorowyn jerked straight, swinging his leg back to the ground and suddenly looking all business.

“Nemesis?” he parroted.

“A small planet in the far reaches of the Outer Rim,” the elder Serenity clarified, expression tense. All of the elder monarchs shared the same tense, uncomfortable demeanor in fact, while the younger shared Endymion’s own perplexed curiosity. “At one time Nemesis was being considered for induction into the Alliance. However, certain . . . events unfolded which revealed them to be unsuitable.”

“‘Unsuitable,’ how?” he demanded, frown deepening. Serenity stared back at him, in no way intimidated.

“Much like Earth, Nemesis was plagued with bloody warfare in her early stages. And much like your planet they were eventually brought under one central rule as well, but this leadership was found to be tyrannical and oppressive. Because of this, the people of Nemesis embrace the darker powers of the universe, Praetor. They are not to be trusted.”

“Oh Stars, I think I’m gonna be sick . . . ,” Endymion glanced over to Jorowyn, the one who’d spoken, to see the Phaetonian with a pained and sickly expression on his face.

“Why?”

“Because I have to agree with the old hag.”

“Jorowyn . . .”

“No, I know, I know. It curdles my stomach to have to admit it, too,” he continued blithely, ignoring the various annoyed looks that shot his way, “but she has a point. Nothing good has ever come of Nemesis. Ever.”

Endymion brooded for a moment in silence before turning toward the guard. “Patch the transmission in here. We’ll see what they have to say.”

“Endy—,”

“I’ll hear what they have to say, Jorowyn,” he interrupted firmly, expression set.

There was a moment while the communications were set up, and then—with a flicker—the image of a tall, well-dressed man appeared above the large circular table. The hologram was slightly fuzzy and distorted, but clear enough for Endymion to discern that the man was probably around his age, with platinum blond hair worn to his jaw and lavender-colored eyes. Eyes that centered first on Serenity—who was seated beside him—and lingered there for a telling moment in time before focusing on him. Then he gave a thin-lipped smile, resting one hand over his heart before bowing low at the waist.

“Esteemed members of the Silver Alliance,” he greeted in a soft, deep voice. “I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to listen to our pleas in this, my kingdom’s greatest hour of need.”

“And you would be?” Endymion prompted, doing his best not to let himself be immediately annoyed—or swayed—by the fact that the man seemed to have an inordinate interest in his wife.

“I am King Diamond, ruler of the kingdom of Nemesis. And I come before you today to beg the aide and protection of the great Silver Alliance.” He sighed heavily, expression drawn and dark. “You see, over the past several months our planet has been ravaged by a force of evil most horrifying. Simply put they are monsters, powerful beyond count and bent on nothing less than the complete eradication of my people, it seems. They give no mercy, no quarter. Only death.”

Despite Endymion’s trust in Jorowyn, the whole scenario struck far too close to home for him. And for the others too, it seemed, as a quick glance around the room revealed Mal, Z, Neph and Jade’s expressions suddenly drawn and dark as well.

“I know that my Kingdom and the Alliance have not always seen eye to eye in the past,” Diamond continued heavily. “I assure you however that my ancestors’ unfortunate methods and tyrannical, tight-fisted rule are not my own. I seek only peace, and the continued survival of my people.”

Jorowyn suddenly sneezed, loudly and violently, cutting Diamond’s impassioned speech up short and simultaneously gaining the attention of everyone else in the room. He rubbed a little at his nose, then blinked slightly and seemed to notice everyone’s stare. “Oh, sorry,” the Phaetonian muttered, “I’m just severely allergic to _bullshit.”_ He motioned blandly toward Diamond’s image. “By all means, please continue.”

To his credit Diamond merely cleared his throat a little before pressing on, not allowing Jorowyn’s interruption to throw him completely.

“Members of the Alliance, I beg of you to reconsider your former ruling, denying my Kingdom entry into this confederation. I beg of you to not turn away from us in our desperate need. Help us, please. Allow us sanctuary in your esteemed union, and together we might usher in a new age of unity and prosperity.” Diamond bowed again, lower this time. “I will await your decision. Stars light your path.”

And then with that the hologram flickered and then died completely. For a long moment no one spoke, wrestling with their own thoughts on the matter at hand. Jorowyn stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few hearbeats, then sighed loudly.

 _“Please_ tell me you’re not actually entertaining that sugar-tongued prick, Endymion.”

“He seemed sincere enough to me,” the younger Serenity spoke up, then, for the first time since the meeting had adjourned. Her expression was earnest as she continued with, “wherever they’re from, if there are innocents being hurt and killed by the youma’s forces, can we really sit by and do nothing?”

“They were a volatile, dangerous people when the Alliance first considered them,” her mother inserted. “I doubt so much has changed in the few years that have passed since then.”

“And that’s almost exactly what your Alliance thought about Earth, too, is it not?” Malachite cut in solemnly. “That we were little better than mindless barbarians, war-mongering and too dangerous to be dealt with on equal terms.”

“And how many innocents have died,” Nephrite continued softly, “because of that one, biased ruling? And not just on Earth soil, either. How strong would we have become, how much more effectively could we have all held against the hoard had we been a united front then, as we are now?”

“We cannot condemn an entire planet for the sins of a few,” Raye spoke up then. “Not again. Not without solid proof.”

The others turned to Endymion then, and he sighed, feeling the full weight of his position for the first time since he’d taken it. After a moment more of silent deliberation, he came to a decision.

“We cannot stand by and do nothing,” he pronounced, causing Jorowyn to scoff in disbelief and sit back heavily in his seat. “Nor can we blindly trust those who have proven themselves to be a threat in the past, either. So what I propose is this; Invite this King Diamond and a small regiment of his people here to Lunara, in a trial basis of sorts. We can make preparations to send them the aid they need against the Negaverse, and in doing we’ll also be able to take their full measure. If their intentions are true, we will reconvene and put a final vote to inducting Nemesis—or not—into the Alliance.” Several nods were given around the table, and Endymion sighed. “I now put it to a vote.” He glanced to Malachite. “What say you, Kingdom of Venus?”

This would be the first major decision put to the council that he and his former Generals had not talked about previously. They were no longer under his command, after all, no longer required to support his decisions. Therefore Endymion really had no idea how this vote would turn out in the end.

Malachite took a deep breath, then glanced at the woman beside him, eyebrow lifted in question. Mina blinked a little, looking genuinely stunned that he was seeking her opinion on the matter. After a slight hesitation, though—and after a long, meaningful stare between the two—she gave him a silent nod. Malachite turned back to Endymion at that, nodding as well.

“Yea.”

“Kingdom of Mercury, what say you?”

Ami was giving her husband a faintly sad, reproachful stare, but the man sighed and shook his head anyway.

“I can’t, Endy. It’s too dangerous. I’ve read a little about Nemesis from the computer logs. If there’s even the _slightest_ chance that Diamond is into the same things his father was, it’d make the Negaverse look like a friendly stroll in the park. So Nay,” he heaved. And then seemed to do his best to shoulder the weight of his wife’s disappointment.

Endymion moved to the next pair. “Kingdom of Jupiter, what say you?”

“Yea,” Nephrite immediately returned, and Lita nodded agreement at his side.

“What say you, Kingdom of Mars?”

Jadeite was silent for several beats, staring at the surface of the table and weighing something out in his mind. Raye was gazing at him steadily, expression firm—obviously having no qualms with offering her opinion to his inner struggle. Finally he sighed and lifted up to meet Endymion’s questioning stare.

“Yea.”

“Kingdom of Saturn, what say you?”

Little Hotaru nodded, immediately responding with a softly spoken, “yea.”

“Kingdom of Uranus, what say you?”

“You can’t trust them,” Rhea proclaimed stubbornly. “Nay.”

“What say you, Kingdom of Neptune?”

“Nay,” Oceanus returned just as readily. “They were denied induction for a _reason,_ lad. Remember that.”

“What say you, Kingdom of—,”

“Nay,” Jorowyn interrupted blandly. “Not that it matters, since I already know you’re gonna vote the other way,” he continued in a testy growl. “Damned sentimental fool. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get us all killed. And when the time comes, I’m gonna hate to have to tell you ‘I told you so.’ It’s really gonna hurt my feelings. And I mean that. I might actually choke up.”

The Regent of Pluto had gained his feet then, and started for the door, and Endymion scowled. “Where are you going, Jorowyn?”

“To the transporters, where else!” he snapped testily, throwing his arms up in defeat. “Somebody’s going to have to reprogram the destination coordinates for Nemesis, and if you wanna welcome your newfound _pals_ before this time next month, it has to be me.”

A moment later and Jorowyn had left the council chambers completely, though they could still hear the sounds of his continued ranting echoing dully off the marble walls beyond. Endymion put one hand over his eyes, sighing long and loudly.

“Somebody remind me why can’t I kill him again?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Jadeite still felt it necessary to respond with, “still can’t catch him, remember?”


	29. The Storm Approaches

Malachite stood at one of the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the east wall of the suite he’d been given, staring out at the glittering silver spires and crystalline structures of the city below without really seeing them. He didn’t turn when he heard someone approach, but smiled slightly a moment later when he felt two slender arms snake around his middle from behind. And then something was nuzzling into the center of his back with a soft, peaceful sigh.

“You’re worried if you’ve made the right decision,” Mina murmured softly after a long moment, where-in she continued to cuddle contentedly while he continued to brood silently on the horizon. It wasn’t a question so much as a matter-of-fact statement, and it wasn’t terribly far off the mark either. Not wanting to worry her, though—he was increasingly cautious as to Mina’s stress level the more days that passed and she came ever closer to the birth of their son—Malachite merely snorted softly and shook his head.

“The vote was cast,” he murmured, his deep voice a soft and steady rumble, “for good or ill, there’s nothing to be done about that now.” A pause, then, “I was actually more worried about whether or not we’ll have a home left to return to once everything’s said and done,” he pronounced, tone light and dry. “You _do_ realize that we left your mother and my uncle alone, to their own devices.” His tiny wife snorted at that, then dissolved into helpless giggles. Still facing away from her, Malachite found himself grinning slightly at the infectious sound. “We’ll be very lucky if they’re even still alive by the time we get back.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Malachite turned to her finally, eyebrow lifted in question. Mina just grinned. “Chances are we might just come home to find them naked in bed together, which is right where the two stubborn old fools belong, if you ask me.”

Malachite blinked. “Naked . . . in bed . . . ?” he flustered. “We _are_ still talking about the same people, aren’t we? Namely the fact that Psyche and Alexandrite can’t sit in the same room together for more than five minutes without dissolving into a five-year-old shouting match?”

“Repressed sexual tension,” Mina assured loftily, however. “They’re both crazy about each other but won’t let themselves give into it, for whatever strange reason. So they fight and bicker instead.” She sighed, absently fiddling with the clasps down the front of his vest. “Everyone would be so much better off—especially them, and my own nerves—if they’d just go to bed already and get it over with.”

Malachite found his concentration quickly derailing away from his uncle and mother-in-law—and even the troubles he was wrestling with concerning Nemesis’ sudden reappearance—by the feel of her slender fingers dancing down his chest.

All was still not completely settled between the two of them—there were still words to be said and emotions to be explored, things that Malachite still kept firmly locked away inside of himself and unable to fully face just yet. And there were many times he would catch Mina staring after him in a sad and wistful sort of way, with a look in her sky-blue eyes that made him feel powerful and yet sick all at the same time.

But for the most part, he and his pretty wife had settled into a very easy and comfortable routine, ever since that fateful day she’d lost her temper with him and took him to task for not performing his ‘husbandly duties’ as often as she would have liked. Malachite reached for her now, his hands curling possessively around the widened curve of her hips, fingers caressing her skin through the diaphanous yellow gown she wore. Smirking knowingly when her breath caught, and an immediate flush of pink bloomed to life in her cheeks—a reaction he’d become quite familiar with.

“So sex is a cure-all for everything?” he questioned softly, deep and rough. His male pride was immediately bolstered by the way Mina suddenly trembled in his grasp and how the color of her blue eyes deepened with answering need.

“Well,” she retorted after a moment, apparently trying to ignore the fact that his hands were slowly sliding upward, and pretending that her own voice hadn’t become a breathy squeak. “It’s certainly worked wonders on _you,_ now hasn’t it?”

“Hm-m,” was all he responded to that, having completely lost interest in the conversation if truth be told. Irony being what it was, Malachite was much more interested in proving her right at the moment, than disputing it. Mina didn’t protest when he bent to her, either, nuzzling into the curve of her neck, kissing and gently biting a hot, wet path downward. Her arms curled tight around his neck instead, letting out a soft and needy moan in the form of his name.

Malachite swept her up off her feet a moment later, not bothered at all by the size of her middle or the extra weight—indeed she still felt as light as a proverbial feather to him, even heavy with his child as she was. Instead he turned and quickly strode in the direction of the bedroom, all the while doing his damndest to ignore the way the little minx was nibbling at his earlobe and failing quite miserably. The King of Venus kicked the already opened door wider with an impatient disregard that was quite unlike his normal behavior, and one he just didn’t give a damn about at present. The lusty former General was forced to draw up short at the foot of the large bed, however. Instead of carefully settling Mina in the center of the feather-down mattress and loving her into a contented stupor, he stiffened up and glared down furiously instead.

Because his bed was apparently already being occupied.

“I swear to all the Stars in Heaven, Zaire, _get out of the gods’ damned bed!”_

The great white cat just blinked up at him from where he’d curled his massive girth right across the middle of the mattress, his long tail lazily flicking up and down in the sheets, utterly unimpressed with his master’s ire. Meanwhile Mina was now laughing so hard she had tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Malachite sighed heavily then, gently putting his very humored wife back on her feet.

“Well so much for that idea,” he muttered testily, which only made her laugh more. After a moment she sighed, though, shaking her head.

“It’s just as well,” Mina admitted. “I promised to meet the girls in a few minutes anyway.” She caught the front of his vest then and gave a half-hearted tug. Malachite humored her, obediently bending down to her reach so she could kiss him. One he returned readily enough, though sighing in disappointment when she managed to pry herself away from the increasingly passionate embrace some moments later. “I’ll be back soon,” she assured him, breathless again, then spun on her heel and glided away toward the door.

Zaire immediately perked up at that, and then heaved himself to his feet before bending down into a great, yawning stretch. Clearly in preparation to follow her. Malachite glared. “Oh, _now_ you want to get up.”

The tiger huffed at him in response, loping closer and shamelessly butting his great head into Malachite’s middle. He took a hold of the cat with two fist-fulls of fur at either side of his muzzle, then gave him a playful shake. “I ought to skin you,” he grumbled in mock anger. Zaire just gave another huffing grunt, completely unconcerned, nuzzling him hard and letting out that growling purr of his that had gotten him out of trouble since he was a cub. Malachite chuckled ruefully, then sighed and affectionately thumped the great beast along his powerful flank.

“Go on, then,” he murmured. “Keep her safe.” Zaire turned and immediately leapt off the bed—deceptively agile—then loped off out of the bedroom on silent feet, trailing after Mina.  


* * *

Nephrite was suddenly and forcefully pulled out of his own thoughts when Lita dropped down beside him on the deeply cushioned couch without preamble, set in the commons area of the suite they’d been given while here in Lunara. He smiled somewhat bemusedly while his wife shamelessly shoved, positioned and maneuvered him until he was to her own satisfaction; lounging back against one armrest so that she could curl up half on top of him, her legs lazily entwined with his. Lita rested her chin on her arms, which she’d crossed over his chest, her dew-green eyes staring up at him questioningly. It seemed Lita wasn’t going to allow him sink into another one of his ‘broody moods,’ as she’d come to call them.

“How long do you think before Jorowyn has the transporters keyed to Nemesis?”

Nephrite sighed at that, reaching out to absently tug at and play with a curl of her auburn hair. “Hard to say,” he murmured, “but probably not long. A few hours more, at the most.” She considered him steadily while he watched his own antics, her own expression solemn.

“You think we voted wrong?” He shook his head.

“No, it’s not that.” He frowned at the curl that had entwined around his fingers. “When the Alliance made the decision to refuse Earth aid when the war began, the shockwave was . . . catastrophic. The worst a warrior can suffer in a battle is the utter loss of hope,” he revealed softly. “I couldn’t cast a vote now that would make me no better than those who condemned my own people to die. And yet . . . .”

Lita waited patiently for him to continue, not trying to herd him in either direction. She had become an unexpected—but quickly treasured—boon these past few weeks. He found it easier and easier to talk to her, to share the burdens of his dark visions, his greatest fears. More so even than with his former fellow Generals and closest friends. And with every morsel shared, a weight that he hadn’t even realized he’d borne was slowly but surely being lifted from his very soul.

“And yet,” he continued after a heavy moment, his hand moving from her hair to begin trailing an absent caress up and down the length of Lita’s spine, “Jorowyn is a man who knows what he’s about, no matter his flaws otherwise. If he says that these people from Nemesis are a threat, then they probably are.”

“You think they might have something to do with your visions?” she questioned.

“Maybe,” he conceded slowly. “Though how, or why, I couldn’t even begin to explain. And the Time Priestess’ predictions from before? How does that play into all of this now? Are the two things connected, or are they completely and utterly unrelated to each other?” He sighed bitterly, glaring up at the ceiling. “It’s enough to drive a sane man mad, trying to figure it all out.”

“Then stop it.”

Nephrite blinked in surprise at that, looking back down at her. Her stare was as forthright as ever, stubborn even, and totally unapologetic about it.

“Either Nemesis is sincere in their bid for aid, or they aren’t. But sitting here driving yourself scatterbrained trying to figure it all out before it happens isn’t going to help anybody, least of all yourself.” She poked him in the ribs then, a crooked grin forming when he yelped in pained protest. “So stop thinking so much.”

Nephrite narrowed his eyes at her, but that was all the warning she got before Lita found their positions on the couch suddenly switched. She laughed, though, as Nephrite settled himself on top of her with a sigh.

“Well then, wife,” he murmured, his tone deceptively calm and placid, in direct contrast to the heat building in his pale eyes. “What do you suggest I do to take my mind off things, then?”

“Hm-m,” Lita purred speculatively, pretending to think the matter over while she purposefully wriggled her lower half deeper into the cushions and effortlessly drove him wild. “Well, I’m thinking that you’ve already thought of a pretty entertaining past-time, yourself,” she played along. Nephrite gave a wicked smile at that and then bent, trailing kisses across her jaw, down her neck, across the line of her delicate collarbone left bare in the wine-colored gown she currently wore. “And we could continue it, if that’s what you really want,” she assured somewhat breathlessly, her fingers tangling into his long hair as he neared the plunging neckline of her dress. “Or,” she suddenly stressed, “you could be my taste-tester for the fresh batch of hralla berry pastries I just finished baking.”

Nephrite froze. He lifted up to find Lita grinning at him, green eyes dancing. She continued to comb her fingers through his hair, eyebrow lifting in question.

“You baked?” he almost whined, and she grinned wider.

“Mm-hm,” she confirmed. “The girls and I made plans to meet with each other after the Council, and I wanted to bring something special to share with them. But if you want,” Lita murmured, tracing a path down the front of his jerkin, “I’ll let _you_ taste them first.”

Here Nephrite hesitated, clearly torn. Sex . . . or a taste of Lita’s baking. She really expected him to choose between one or the other? He swallowed with severe difficulty, then, expression pained. “Is this a trick question?”

 

* * *

“You’re angry with me, aren’t you.”

Ami turned slightly from where she’d been considering her own reflection, looking at Zoisite from over her shoulder, who stood somewhere behind her. She blinked at him, and to her credit she seemed genuinely surprised by the statement.

“Angry with you?” she parroted, bemused, before turning back to the mirror and brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Why would I be angry with you, Z?”

He frowned, fists clenched at his sides. “You wanted me to support the Nemesis vote.” Ami nodded to that, though she continued to fuss with her appearance, seemingly unperturbed with the entire conversation.

“I shared Sere’s views on the matter, yes. No matter what’s been done in the past, if there are people suffering we have a moral obligation to give whatever help we can to them.” Then she shrugged one shoulder and sighed somewhat dismissively. “But what’s done is done.”

Zoisite watched his tiny wife for a moment longer, more than a little confused. “You’re sure you’re not upset with me for overruling you?” Ami laughed then, and finally turned away from the mirror to face him completely.

“You’re really worried about this aren’t you,” she murmured somewhat teasingly and he frowned, feeling an uncomfortable heat crawling up his neck and jaw. Ami sighed then, her blue eyes dancing with mirth but having schooled her expression into a properly sympathetic moue. She closed the distance between them and then reached out to smooth a few wrinkles out of the front of his jacket. A simple gesture but one that was incredibly wifely, and one that warmed him to the core. “We’re not always going to see eye to eye on everything, Zoisite,” she murmured, watching herself work before tilting back to meet his gaze, suddenly solemn with sincerity. “You didn’t reject my opinion out of hand. And while I might disagree with them, you had your own reasons for voting the way that you did, arguably valid reasons. That’s enough for me.”

His relief was immediate. Zoisite returned her soft smile, reaching up to catch one of her slender hands in his and give it an affectionate squeeze. “And then, there is the fact that I was ultimately overruled,” he teased then, causing her to chuckle.

“Well yes, there is that,” she agreed playfully. “Trust me, Z. If I’m ever truly angry, you won’t have to ask. You’ll know it,” Ami assured. Zoisite laughed.

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll keep it in mind.”

A moment later and Ami had left their suite of rooms, off to go and meet with the other wives of his friends, of whom she’d become quite close since their group marriage all those months ago. Though not before Zoisite had managed to kiss her into an adorably blushing, stammering mess before he’d let her go.

The Mercurian King paced the room for an hour or more after she’d left, at a loss for something of his own to occupy his time. Finally he found himself exiting the room as well, and turning his steps toward the transporter hall. He passed by Serenity’s Mauian handmaid along the way, Diana he thought her name was. He didn’t really put a second thought to her presence in that part of the palace, having no real idea himself what all of her duties entailed or where they might bring her in doing them. Though Zoisite did have to wonder—if absently—at the way she hurried along the corridor away from him and back toward the palace proper, and at the glimmer of what looked to be deeply wounded tears in her eyes as she did so. Soon enough she was past, though, and he forgot about her mysterious troubles in favor of more pressing and dangerous problems of his own.

He stepped into the main transporter room and found his cousin where he expected Jorowyn to be; hunched over the main terminal and otherwise completely alone. No doubt the surly Phaetonian had chased away all of the Lunaran technicians with one method or other, since he preferred solitude, especially when he was working. Zoisite neared him with a sigh, arms crossed, watching idly while his cousin continued to move at a somewhat feverish pace resetting code and even rewiring the very terminal itself, it seemed. Neither spoke for a long moment, though Zoisite knew Jorowyn was well aware of his presence.

Finally it was he who broke the stalemate. “Do you think we’re being paranoid?”

Jorowyn still didn’t look at him, but he scoffed at that, expression wry. “Sure, Z. I mean, nothing’s _really_ impossible in this ‘verse, I guess. Maybe they’re right. Maybe the ruler of Nemesis really has become a peace-and-equality-loving ball of fluff who really just wants to be everyone’s bestest friend.” Here he paused, finally, and shot him a look over his shoulder. “Or they’re wrong, and the bastard is just as twisted and manipulative as his father was, and we’re about to invite the proverbial wolves to the lamb-covered supper table.”

“If his intentions are circumspect,” Zoisite argued as Jorowyn returned to his work, “then why announce himself so openly? Diamond has to know that we’d be overly cautious toward betrayal. Why set himself up for that kind of scrutiny? It doesn’t make any sort of sense.”

“I know it doesn’t,” Jorowyn agreed in a frustrated growl. “That’s what has me so damned worried. Because it _doesn’t_ make sense, at all. And that makes them even more dangerous than any of you could possibly realize.” His cousin lifted away from the terminal then, which had suddenly come back to life with a soft, mechanical hum. He sighed heavily, pointing at the readouts. “The coordinates for Nemesis have been reset, and the blocks lifted. You’ll just need to input the official codes to unlock things on their end to open the gateway.”

 _“I’ll_ need to?” Zoisite repeated, brows lifted with shock, even while Jorowyn brought up another screen and hurriedly typed in a new, separate destination. He blinked, confused. “Going somewhere, Jory?”

“Pluto,” he heaved, finishing with controls and activating the teleporter. The space within the ring swirled into a chaotic blur before settling again, revealing the dark landscape of the planet in question. Jorowyn started forward, jaw set, leaving Zoisite gaping after him. “Just got a new job and all, thought I might as well get started on it.”

Zoisite scowled. “Since when are _you_ responsible?” he demanded, just before Jorowyn stepped through the magical distortion.

“Since now!” was his cousin’s snotty reply, an instant before he was gone completely.

 

* * *

Jadeite turned from the communicator in his room with a somewhat heavy sigh.

 _Jorowyn has the teleporter reconfigured,_ he told Raye, via their own personal telepathic wavelength. _Looks like you girls are going to have to cut things short for now, sweeting._

 _The teleporter chambers?_ came her response a heartbeat later. Jadeite grabbed the dagger he’d set aside, rebuckling it to his hip.

_I’m headed there now. So are the others._

_Alright, we’ll meet you there._

Jadeite stepped out of the rooms he’d been given and hurried toward the chamber in question. He ran across some of the other royals along the way, as well as several different regiments of Lunaran troops all spilling out and converging from separate hallways into one single destination. By the time he entered into the large hall, it was filled by at least a hundred soldiers all surrounding the teleporter in a wide ring and fully armed. It seemed Endymion was definitely taking no chances with this, though Jadeite couldn’t blame him, he supposed.

Jadeite stepped forward with the other royalty who had come to welcome these new ambassadors. A moment later and he felt Raye approach. He reached for her without really looking in that direction, curling an arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her close. And he was inwardly relieved when the fiery female settled against his side without any kind of a fuss.

 _Did you have a good visit?_ he questioned silently as they stood with the others, waiting while Zoisite and another technician began the process. Raye’s fingers curled into the material of his tunic at the small of his back.

 _Mina is very pregnant, Ami is still the calm voice of reason, Lita bakes extraordinarily well it would seem and it is a small wonder that Serenity isn’t as big around as a Dune Beast with as much as she eats._ Jadeite smirked a little at her terse reply.

_You had a good visit._

He felt the mental equivalent of her laughter in his head, and then a caress of something else entirely. _Yes, Jade,_ Raye admitted then. _I had a good visit._ A pause, and then in a slightly more dry and terse tone she continued with, _now that that’s settled, do you think we should maybe concentrate on what’s going on in front of us?_

 _As you wish, sweeting,_ he agreed readily enough, and it was all he could do not to flinch outwardly when she jabbed him in the back with her nails.

Jadeite’s attention was finally caught by the proceedings when the teleporter finally activated with a flourish. He, along with everyone else in the clearing, gazed on in curiosity as the chaotic storm of color finally stilled and revealed a darkened and somewhat somber landscape of hunched buildings crouched in the depths of shadowy moors. A moment later and several individuals began stepping across the threshold.

At the forefront was the man from the communications earlier, the supposed King of this planet, Diamond. He looked much the same as he had in the hologram image, dressed all in white, tooled in silver. A heavy cape was held across his shoulders with a fat silver rope that spanned his chest, capped in silver furs and lined with the same. The man moved forward easily, confidently, not seeming to be at all threatened by the amount of armed soldiers surrounding him.

Next out was a tall woman dressed in black, also with a fur-lined cape that dragged the ground, and a pair of deadly boots whose very long high-heels appeared to be metal and probably doubled as a weapon in their own right. This one had a full head of pale green hair, thick and curly, the ends falling well to the back of her knees.

And then another man came after that, slightly shorter than the first but heavier with muscle. Dressed in dark brown leather trimmed in red, he had a wild plume of scarlet hair and narrowed eyes to match. It also appeared that this one’s weapon of choice was a whip, of all things, at least if the wicked-looking metal-jointed contraption curled up and buckled to his hip was any sort of indication.

Six others stepped through after that, though they seemed to be merely low-ranking soldiers from Jadeite’s practiced eye. After that, the teleporter powered down once more and went inert.

“Greetings, friends,” Diamond suddenly called, slowly moving forward and off the platform. He turned toward Endymion and bowed. “You humble me with your showing of compassion and goodwill.”

If Endymion’s welcoming smile was this side of strained, only his closest friends would be able to tell.

“King Diamond, others of Nemesis. On behalf of the Silver Alliance I’d like to welcome you all to Lunara.”

“I have introduced myself,” Diamond returned, “but allow me to introduce you to my most trusted friends and advisors. My First Chancellor, Emerald,” he indicated the green-haired beauty to his left. “And my Highest General, Rubeus.”

At the sound of that name, Raye suddenly stiffened at his side. Jadeite turned to look at her, and immediately tensed at the somewhat pale and stricken look on her face.

 _What is it?_ Raye blinked at that, and seemed to put forth a visible effort to regaining control of herself.

_It . . . it’s nothing._

He scowled. _Are we seriously going to go through this again?_ At that she scowled, her violet eyes sparking a familiar fire of warning.

 _I said it’s nothing,_ she reiterated stubbornly. _And now’s not the time._

Jadeite was forced to turn back to the proceedings as Endymion began introducing them, though he promised himself he’d question Raye more about this later.

“And finally,” Endymion finished several moments later, turning slightly to indicate Serenity, who stood at his side. “This is my wife Serenity, Queen of Lunara and of Earth.”

Diamond smiled down at her, and gave a faintly flustered Serenity a deep and sweeping bow. “How fitting that you should save the best for last,” he murmured, practically oozing charm. “It is a delight to finally see such a rare gem in person, my lady. The rumors of your beauty do you no credit.”

 _Damn, he sure is laying it on thick,_ he thought to himself, though Raye—who was ever merged with him—snorted at his side in snide agreement.

Meanwhile Serenity just blinked at him, somewhat taken aback, though the pink in her cheeks said that she wasn’t entirely immune from the handsome King’s charms either. “Ah, th-thank you,” she managed after a moment’s pause.

“I’m afraid that no official occasion could be arranged to celebrate your arrival on such short notice,” Endymion cut in smoothly, firmly integrating himself in between Serenity and Diamond and somehow not being entirely obvious about it. “However I do believe a rather epic feast has been prepared in your honor. And afterward, perhaps you could enlighten us further as to the details of your terrible plight.”

The King of Nemesis just smiled, bowing again in acquiescence. “Certainly, my lord. As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is all I have so far. I actually have the rest of the overall plot for the fic planned out, it's just actually WRITING it that's the problem. But I have hopes of eventually finishing this beast, so don't give up. Feel free to leave comments or kudos! Knowing the work is appreciated always helps.


End file.
